


K-9

by BlueEyedArcher



Series: K-9 Universe [1]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Angst, Biting, Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Bondage and Discipline, Brainwashing, Captivity, Chains, Choking, Collars, Dominance, Drugs, Fluff and Smut, Humiliation, Imprisonment, Kidnapping, Knifeplay, M/M, Major Character Injury, Marking, Master/Pet, Nicknames, Non-Consensual Bondage, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pet Names, Pet Play, Predator/Prey, Psychological Torture, Punishment, Puppy Play, Reconditioning, Sex Toys, Stockholm Syndrome, Training, Voyeurism, Whipping, hostage, wrath - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-14 09:38:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14767113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: Rook finds out the most frightening person in the world isn't Joseph Seed, though he is a close second. His biggest fear is of the man who trains wolves in his free time and has a knack for crawling into his head and plucking at the gears and cogs, rearranging them and branding his own special brand of crazy on every inch of his body. Nothing physical, nothing lasting for the naked eye. Every scar is carefully placed beneath the flesh as his sins come back to haunt him as do old nicknames that stuck a little too well in his opinion. Becoming Jacob Seed's personal pet wasn't something he intended nor delighted in, but the madman's claws are dug in firmly and Rook has no other choice but to trail along at the end of a leash and obey his new master.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first time writing an Far Cry 5 piece. I just finished the game in the middle of the night last night and was compelled to start writing with a Male Deputy x Jacob Seed pet play/captive piece in mind. I hope you guys enjoy it. Please leave a comment below on what you think so far. I'd very much appreciate it. Enjoy!

It was a common problem so far, something that the others didn’t really seem to mind before. Sheriff Whitehorse and Hudson dealt with it, enjoying his meek obedience and the quietness of his actions. It was easy for him to slip out of their thoughts and disappear even when the room was full, no one really noticed him. He never really talked much, in fact, the only person to hear him speak at all was the Sheriff when he interviewed for the job. Even then, the elder man had forgotten the sound of his rookie’s voice, always seeming startled when he does speak up in small bursts of one or two word phrases. Always so soft and quiet, the presence of a deep thinker, the sheriff had mused once in confidence. A man of action but also of mind.

 

Hudson and Pratt both assumed he was a selective mute, but they didn’t mind either. He was young and still really green for the job so they would take the lead on all their calls and issues. He was meant to follow along and watch their backs. He complied easily. Until Eden’s Gate happened.

 

There was no one to really follow, to direct him. He was out there, alone, fighting through the wilderness with peggies at his back and an unfathomable expanse of possibilities before him. All seemed so vague and uncertain, all of them were unknown and he wasn’t too proud to admit he was terrified. Though there wasn’t any one present for him to admit that to, aside from the occasional hare or doe that shambled into his path or rested nearby in a field, grazing quietly. Even the animals tended to forget his presence. As time passed and he fought his way across Hope County, he made friends. Plenty of good folk that had his back but they all looked up to him, followed him. His choices decided their fates and they pledged themselves to him. To this cause. He wasn’t so sure that feeling was a welcome one. It made his gut twist all up and he’d feel the jitters start to set in when he’d excuse himself with an apologetic smile or a nod in a direction. The sickening feeling came when he realized the people devoting their guns and their lives to him somehow put him on par with Joseph Seed. That mad man was the last person he wanted to be the equal of.

 

With time, even that started to fade and it became second nature to lead these courageous men and women against the family of lunatics bringing their wrath upon this county. Ironically enough. John Seed shared the same feeling towards him. Labeling him with his mark of sin in the few short hours before his demise. Joseph didn’t take too kindly to the loss of his little brother, the broadcast showed as much but Rook wasn’t interested in that. Faith Seed was halfway through sinking her claws into him, setting upon him with the noxious fumes of her Bliss as she dangled Marshall Burke in front of his face. Every time, he was just out of reach before the hallucinations would end and he’d be thrown back into the rush and roar of chaos. The world lit in a new blaze once again and he was running at top speed to swoop in and put it out.

 

When Faith’s anger had started to reach the boiling point and her faithful Angels were swarming the Henbane in flocks to hunt him down, he sought asylum in the quiet Whitetail Mountains. They didn’t stay quiet for long though, after a couple explosive run ins with the Wolf Beacons scattered throughout the region and a liberated outpost later, he found himself gunned down in the woods with a laced arrow burrowed into the flesh of his leg. He tried to run, the distant howls of Judges over the hills, their massive white bodies darting through the brush, following the blood trails with their masters tracking behind. Bows clutched in hand and bodies covered in the thick garments of the _Chosen_. He managed to drag himself into a narrow crevice of wood, a pitiful attempt to hide before the drug took hold, snagging and snatching at his mind and pulling him under its spell.

 

His first run in with Jacob was more terrifying than his face to face exchange with Joseph in the back of the helicopter near the compound or when John attempted to flay the flesh from his chest with a fillet knife. The interaction was all predatory, an immediate Alpha dominance was presented before him, demanding he submit well before any actions to enforce the command were taken. Deputy Pratt knew his place, it was obvious enough by how the normally confident and sure handed man scurried away like a frightened deer the moment Jacob neared. The way he kept his head bowed in his presence and his gaze averted to avoid any mistaken attempts at challenge.

 

Rook could tell, not just by his weak and battered appearance, but by how much he had changed, that Jacob had really done a number on the man to put him in that position. He wasn’t even half this timid in the presence of Sheriff Whitehorse. All proud body language and drawn back shoulders, exerting his prowess as the veteran Deputy beneath the Sheriff. His only challenge then was Hudson, with their equal respect and jabbing banter, they were both a force to be reckoned with. Since Eden’s Gate, the Seeds had broken them both down in ways he doubted either of them would recover from.

 

He could have gone without the slide show of carnage and carcasses, wolves baring their teeth in a low snarl, looking on the verge of leaping off the white screen to rip his throat out. Jacob himself seem prepared to go for the jugular at a moment’s notice, clean and concise with his kills. He hunted and worked like a pack predator, herding Rook and the other captive whitetails around like the prey they were until he had them right where he wanted them. His fingers curled into tight fists as the eldest Seed brother continued his lecture, closing the distance between them until they were eye to eye.

 

Unlike Deputy Pratt, Rook didn’t avert his gaze or assume submission. He stared back at the striking blue orbs with challenge, noticing the primal glint in them as he straightened up, seemingly satisfied with the response. Or lack thereof. His fingers wrapped around the little wooden box, winding the key on the side with each careful crank. Rook could hear the gears turning, already dreading what was to come. He had hear rumors of this place, of Jacob’s methods of sussing out the weak from the strong. _Culling the herd._ He remembered.

 

As the box was opened, his heart seemed to stop, everything fell into slow motion as his eyes rolled back. The music coming from the gears was lost to the rushing of the blood in his ears and the tremors that shook through his body like violent seizures. His fingers dug into the arms of the chair until the nails broke and bled. His vision blurred and distorted into a haze of red and fire on the edges, tunnel vision consuming his view as he was thrown into a maddening maze of bodies and corridors. Guns at the ready and men running towards him around every jarring corner. His reflexes were fast and automatic, any fast movement was met with a bullet to the chest and on occasion, between the eyes if he was lucky enough. His legs felt on fire as he ran and ran, hearing Jacob’s voice in the back of his head, fingers itching to pull another bullet out of the chamber, more blood spilled, the coppery scent lingering in the air, splashing back on himself. He could taste it, coating his tongue and forming an itch in the back of his throat. It was so strong his nostrils burned with every flaring breath as he pushed on, faster, harder, more precise until he reached the end of the madness and was met with the deep earthy vice rumbling out its approval. “Perfect.”

 

He was lucky to be rescued by the Whitetail Militia after that. Left in the room with the others he had killed, he was delirious and dehydrated, left to die in the empty office room with the other decaying corpses. With the rest of those deemed _weak._ Rook wasn’t weak, at least he liked the think he wasn’t. It was the only way to keep his sanity at this point.

 

After his rescue, he ran from Jacob’s territory as fast as his legs and a commandeered ATV would take him. He cut through the woods to avoid the roads and any patrolling peggies, making his retreat back to the safety of John’s liberated region. He had never been so happy to see the endless crop fields and pastures. He hated them at first since they provided very little cover when moving but now he didn’t have to fear for that. Very few peggies dared enter the area, the rest dispersed to Faith’s or Jacob’s region to join their cause and regroup. Rook was fine with that.

 

He spent the next two weeks working through the Henbane area, cutting down Faith’s supply lines and decimating her Shrines on that godless path of a pilgrimage. It was at the look out tower at the end of the path where Faith made her reappearance. Her last shrine was dealt with, a few pounds of explosives later and her pilgrimage was over. Her answer was to pull her little puppet strings and seize back Marshall Burke and reclaim the county jail. Rook raced off to save Sheriff Whitehorse and end the girl’s life once and for all. She was broken and lost by the end of their journey, stepping towards Rook with pleading eyes, outreaching for some form of reassurance in her dying moments. Rook didn’t allow it. Her manipulative touch that crawled across his skin like insects. All of the Seeds had an obsession with touching and getting far too close for comfort. They knew how to use it against somebody, to screw with their senses and he wasn’t going to let her toxins seep in like the spider she was.

 

He wasn’t sad to see her go. He felt no remorse or sympathy. He held a slightly higher bit of guilt for John’s death, he knew the youngest brother was far too easy to please, too willing and eager as it was with many little siblings. He’d do anything for his brothers, had done anything. He was beaten down just like the rest of them and manipulated in ways that knotted Rook’s stomach up fierce. But Faith, Faith chose this path. She wasn’t manipulated. She had every opportunity, every chance to leave. To run away. She wasn’t born into this hell of a family like the others. She wasn’t a victim of environment and circumstance like the Seed brothers with their fucked up parents and their equally as fucked up middle brother.

 

Joseph was devastated with her death within a month of losing John. With it went more then half his flock, following their Heralds to the grave. Rook was numb by the time he finished liberating the Henbane from Faith’s loyalists and Priestesses. He helped Father Jerome and a handful of others with bringing back any defectors wanting a way out, those not too far gone in the Bliss or from John’s butchery. Their allies were growing, the resistance now rivaled Joseph’s forces and all that was left was Jacob in his way. The man had the higher ground. He was well armed, fortified and supplied in ways that John and Faith couldn’t compare.

 

Rook lasted about two and half weeks in Jacob’s territory, giving the eldest Seed brother the run around as he blew up wolf beacons and liberated his training grounds and recruiting stations. He had cut Jacob’s influence down to half, using the terrain to hide from his scouts and hunters. He had gotten even better with a bow thanks to Jess Black’s help and now he was a force to be reckoned with against his highly trained Chosen. Silent, deadly and determined. Jacob was quickly losing patience at that point and sent out his forces in full ambush until they pinned Rook down in a small ramshackle diner on the edge of the main highway. He was nestled in the back store room, bleeding bad from a unsavory run in with a wolverine so he didn’t have much fight left in him. He gave it his all, killing a dozen or so of the Chosen. He had blocked up the door with a shelving unit and plywood to give himself some cover. It would be a hell of a time to try and get out of the room afterwards but he didn’t care. He’d rather bleed out then end up in Jacob’s clutches once more.

 

Sadly, the hunters didn’t seem to have gotten the memo on that one as an arrow hit his shoulder, not deep enough to cause much damage but enough to deliver the dose of sedative they needed. He had no energy left to fight the drug and quickly succumbed to it. When he woke up, he half expected to be strapped down into another chair, his eyes glazed with the lingering effects of the drug. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton, his tongue thick and heavy. His lips were cracked, glued together by the drying saliva between them. His leg was on fire and his chest ached with every breath as he tried to pull himself upright, fingers scratching against the cold hard floor. The sensation was secondary, the chill of the metal had already numbed the surface of his skin, his chest bare, legs left open to the nip of the cooler mountain air. His tattoo was partially obscured by the bandage on his collar bone, covering the wound from the arrow bolt.

 

His gaze roamed over his lower half, he was wearing his own boxers, the only modesty permitted. His leg was wrapped up tight, the white bandaging was a sharp contrast against the sickly visage of his body. The toned fit frame he worked so hard on in the academy was reduced to lean muscle and sharp frail edges from malnutrition and overexertion. His hips were more defined, his ribs and collarbones pressing out a little more noticeable than before. He hadn’t actually taken the time to look at himself in a long time. He’d easily forget to eat until hunger was gnawing at him like the distant howls of Judge wolves, a terrifying warning of danger. The same hunger came prowling back to the surface, cloaked in the shadows of thirst, a more dire necessity he’s discovered and beer doesn’t exactly cut it as a substitute. A realization he had after the Testicle Festival fiasco.

 

His body creaked and groaned in protest as he pulled himself back towards the far wall. The room was about average in size, the hard metal flooring he discovered after a few blinks into the thick darkness, belonged to the base of a cage. Much the same as the ones Jacob was keeping his experimental wolves in. He could barely make out the framing of more bars across the room in two other cages, both were empty. A desk rested opposite that next to the door. The room had the same kind of lighting on the ceiling that one would find in an office space, the long white bulbs were a subtle difference in the darkness through the bars. As far as he could tell, there was no window but then again, it could be boarded up like most buildings in Hope County.

 

Rook shifted around a little more, feeling the rustling of something at the end of his injured leg. His skin was too numb to register, most of his lower half had fallen asleep from his previous prolonged position and was struggling to get the blood flowing back through it. He reached down and ran his bare hands down his knee, feeling carefully over the bandages until he reached a cold lump of metal at his ankle. It was nestled at the crook of bone, snug enough to keep him from going anywhere unless he felt like gnawing his own leg off. The wolverine already started the job.

 

He ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh, feeling the blunt ends scrape into his tender scalp. He had a bump at the back of his head, triggering awince as they danced across it. He silently cursed and let his hands fall at his sides. It was strange, not having his gloves on, even when he decided the day was too hot to wear a shirt while working on fixing up the buildings in Fall’s End or helping do some work on a few of the outposts so they were functional again, he always wore his gloves. He hadn’t bothered until his first run in with Jacob. His broken and raw fingertips from gripping the chair so tightly left him feeling uneasy. The way the material dug under his nails and the blood that slotted the tips, a sensation he didn’t want to relive. He assumed he had no choice now.

 

He waited in the darkness for what felt like hours before there was noise on the other side of the walls. Soft voices muttering brief sentences back and forth. Their was a sharp sound that resembled an affirmation before silence resumed. A couple minutes later, the door creaked open, flooding the darkened room with the harsh rays of sunlight from the hallway. Rook was forced to squeeze his eyes shut to protect them from the stimulation. He dared to open them once more but was met with the click of the fluorescent ceiling lights bearing down on him. He raised his hands for some form of mercy, covering his eyes as he groaned. “He lives.” Jacob’s voice rumbled out with an amused growl, drawing the Deputy’s attention towards the pair of eyes gazing back at him. He was crouched before the cage bars as if Rook were some kind of skittish animal too afraid to near him. He placed a hand on the bar, an invitation closer or a warning on who was in charge, he couldn’t tell.

 

“You were weak.” Jacob stated, his gaze drifting to Rook’s damaged leg and shoulder. “That can be fixed. But this,” He gestured towards his temple, tapping it slowly with his index finger. “-is strong but directed to the wrong path. It too can be fixed. You will be trained to be strong. To cull the herd.”

 

Rook didn’t show any sign of response to the promise. He didn’t want to end up in that damned chair again and he was sure as hell certain he wouldn’t be able to run that rat race with his leg like this. He’d be lucky if he could even manage an escape at this rate.

 

“You’re not going anywhere, pup.” _Pup?_ Rook was confused now. It took him a bit to figure out what he was talking about. A few of the Faithful had taken to referring to him as the Sheriff’s Dog. Even in the past, before Eden’s Gate, he was joking called K-9 by his classmates at the academy and even Hudson and Pratt had playfully jested the same idea. The reason being his quiet demeanor. The way he obediently follows orders and his superior officer. He was fiercely protective when his ‘Master’ was endangered or threatened but trained well enough not to react until given the command. He was by the sheriff’s side since he joined the Hope County Sheriff’s Department. A few of the regulars in the jails had taken to calling him the K-9 unit, the dog of the department since it wasn’t big enough for an actual K-9 unit.

 

Rook figured that little moniker from the past had reached Jacob, the dog trainer extraordinaire. He never corrected it before, never saw a reason to, figuring it would fade with time or be kept to his closest coworkers. Rook realized he must have been thinking hard, making a pulled expression of concentration when he noticed Jacob’s smile of amusement. It looked dangerous and made him want to recoil away if it weren’t for the bars against his back. He moved his good leg closer to himself but his damaged one remained outstretched, still struggling to get the feeling back in it. His concern flitted from Jacob’s expression towards his leg as his hands rubbed at the knee and tried to work the feeling back into it. “Its futile pup. We injected a localized paralytic into the limb to keep it from moving and breaking the sutures. You won’t be using it for a few more hours. Not like you’ll be needing it much.”

 

Jacob mused at the expression of the Deputy, the shock twisting up his features before he could cover them. He tapped his fingers against the bars as he spoke. “If you crawl over to me, I’ll give you some water.” He offered. “You’re thirsty right? It’s been a couple days since my Hunters brought you back.” _A couple days? Christ._ He gave a shaky breath, considering his options. Die of thirst or swallow his pride? Both would be hard to deal with. His throat felt stuck like it was glued, constricting with every shallow attempt to wet the parched flesh. It was tight and dry in ways he didn’t think were possible. “Tick tock.” Jacob hummed, giving the impression he was going to leave if Rook didn’t make up his mind soon. The deputy had no real choice, forcing himself to lean to the side so he could maneuver his injured leg around. He hissed in pain, feeling the muscles flexing in his shoulder, pulling at the damaged flesh from the arrow bolt. It took a solid minute for him to wiggle and shimmy his way across the hard floor towards the bars.

 

Jacob was amused by the action, barely concealing the chuckle in his throat as he reached a hand through the bars to rest atop the messy greasy head of hair. Rook froze in place, raising his head to meet the blue eyed gaze that was far too close for comfort. He bit back a noise of surprise and held completely still as the blunt nails raked across his scalp, the gesture, he assumed was meant to praise him. His suspicions were deemed correct when he purred out. “Good boy.”

 

Rook stared in confusion as the man scratched across his hair, ruffling through the tangle of locks catching on his fingers before he rocked back on his heels. His boots going flat against the floor as he approached the desk. A snap of something against the rough wood caused Rook to flinch at the sharp sound before a drawer was pulled open. It was hard to see past Jacob’s body as the man bent over and dug around, pulling out two different items before turning towards the cage again. In his hands was a grey canteen, the water sloshing around within had Rook pressing against the bars, eager for a drink. His eyes consumed with that canteen as Jacob made a show of giving it a small swirling motion and shake. He unscrewed the cap, paused before raising it to his lips. Rook was envious with every swallow, watching Jacob’s adam’s apple bob with the motion. He pressed further against the bars until it was painful, forcing his neck to crook at an angle.

 

“Want some?” He teased, giving the canteen another shake. Rook reached a hand through the bars, fingertips catching on the edges of Jacob’s clothing. He made no move to back up or swat the hand away. He was enjoying the desperation painted across the Deputy’s face. The man was weak, for now, but Jacob had plans for him. He couldn’t kill him anyway, Joseph wanted him alive. To fulfill his purpose. To unleash the seals for the coming collapse. “Do as i say and you will be rewarded with a drink. Understood?” Rook was delayed in his action but he nodded quickly.

 

Jacob gestured for him to back up, shooing him away from the cage door as he reached down and worked the lock loose. His eyes remained fixed on Rook to ensure he was doing as he was told. He had no worries that the deputy would disobey and attempt to attack him. Even if he succeeded, he wouldn’t get far with that leg the way it was. As the door opened, it creaked with a high pitch grinding on the hinges that made Rook flinch. It was noticed by Jacob, the corner of his mouth curling up with a sly smirk before he gestured for him to approach. “Come pup.” His index finger pointed out the place he desired Rook shuffle towards. It was awkward as he forced his bad leg underneath himself, sitting sideways to keep the pressure off his stitches. He reached out for the canteen as Jacob started to move it closer.

 

He swatted the hands away with a harsh click of his tongue. Rook frowned before the fingers of his free hand snatched him by his throat, the grip tight and threatening, nails digging into skin but not too harsh that he’d choke. He forced Rook’s head back so he was staring up at the ceiling. His fingers pressing under his jaw as he coaxed the water past parted cracked lips. Rook’s tongue flicked out to lap up the room temperature liquid, feeling like heaven trickled into his mouth. His adam’s apple bobbed in greedy gulps. Jacob allowed just enough to to revive his salivation glands and ward off the desert dry feeling. It took the deputy a minute to realize that Jacob had released his throat, instead a new presence occupied the space, heavy and thick against his skin. It settled around the base of his neck once the eldest Seed brother finished fiddling with it. A cool silver tag pressed against bare skin, drawing shivers through his shoulders and upper back. There was a click as he adjusted the lock keeping the buckles in place, a snug fit, tight enough to be a constant reminder but loose enough not to suffocate with.

 

His fingers rose to tug at the leather in confusion. This earned him a sharp whistle that was far too loud for his ears in the quiet of the room. He flinched away, his eyes opening as they rested on the elder man with apprehension. “You take that off, I won’t hesitate to shoot you. Got it?” Rook nodded in slow understanding. There was a quiet pause between them, a silence that hung heavily as Jacob seemed to consider and observe his newest addition. This man had been wreaking havoc across the county, destroyed half his territory, killed his little brother and his faux sister. Yet, here he was before him, almost docile in his presence. None of the vicious snarling or venomous words he had expected. He didn’t fight back, didn’t snap obscenities like all the rest. He held his own though, his posture told him that despite his current idleness, there was a predator beneath the surface, biding its time and waiting. The sheriff had himself one hell of a deputy at his disposal. The mad dog of Hope County was all his now, as far as he was concerned, Joseph can go play priest with some other poor schmuck. Jacob didn’t want to let this one go. Not until he’s had his fun.

 

“You don’t talk much, do you?” The words split the silence between them. The deputy’s gaze has drifted, still resting on Jacob but his eyes had gone distant, lost in thought. Jacob could see the change as they refocused, the tension in the deputy’s shoulders as he regarded Jacob’s remark. He was answered with a slow shake of the head. Jacob grunted in acknowledgement, a hum low in his throat before he rocked back onto the heels of his boots and stood up and made his way towards the chair at the desk. He turned it half way and plopped back with a sigh, the old rusted frame groaning beneath the weight, protesting the force as it skidded against the tile. The deputy remained where he was left, sitting in the threshold of the cage as if awaiting to be dismissed or to receive another order. Jacob watched with a peculiar glint in his eye, a look that sent twisted shreds of dread through the deputy, causing him to go stiff. His fears were abated with the wave of a hand dismissing him to go back inside his cage.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill, please comment or kudos down below to let me know what you think. Thank you so far for your support. It motivates me to keep writing. Enjoy!

Rook had been concerned from the very beginning with how his captivity would turn out. Any bit of food or drink given to him was controlled to small amounts, keeping him functional but on the verge of starving. It was a power play to keep him in place and prevent him from escaping. His body needed all the nutrients it could get for healing which left him exhausted with the passing days. His leg was in pain for a majority of the time, leaving him curled up in the back corner of his cage, clawing at what little shreds of sleep he could to avoid the cold of the cage and the agony. He’d be woken up whenever Jacob entered the room, the eldest Seed brother made a point of coming to his cage each time, hand held out in silent greeting and command for him to crawl over to the threshold. The fingers would work through his hair, scraping across his scalp in praise for his compliance. Sometimes he would bring food, sometimes the canteen of water. Other times he would come empty handed and the touch was the only reward he’d receive for his troubles.

 

He wasn’t given any form of painkiller for his injuries, even as Jacob had a veterinarian check the wounds and clean the stitches to prevent infection. He was let out of the cage during this time, made to sit up on a portable metal table used for checking up and experimenting on the wolves brought to the place. The edges were rusted and scraped, deep gouges from claws dug into the metal surface. He was manhandled into a proper position for the vet to do his work. He seemed to treat him like any other animal that crosses this table, at one point his touch caused the Deputy to jolt away. This earned him a hard grip to the back of his neck like a fitful canine being snatched by his scruff. He groaned at the vice like grip, feeling his head forced back so he was staring up at the ceiling, eyes blinded by the harsh light above. The prolonged hours of darkness to brief moments of light were doing a number on his eyes’ sensitivity.

 

He was getting better at seeing in the dark though it did little to soothe his fears as the shadows twisted and morphed in the pitch blackness of the corners. Phantom images forming in the cages around him, soft whimpers and whispers curling at the back of his mind, driving nightmares in his waking world, many of which followed him out of his dreams. It was disorienting, trying to distinguish the difference between this reality and the hallucinations of his subconscious. By the third day, he was beginning to think the starvation was getting to him. He heard familiar voices in the shadows, brief mentions of his name drifting in and out, called by a voice he couldn’t recognize right away. It was muffled, like talking through water, or in this case, the walls. The scratching and scraping noise of nails against the other side was irritating beyond belief, causing his palms to cover his ears as he forced himself to submit just a little longer to sleep. Just enough to pass the time until Jacob returns.

 

It took two more hours before the red head stormed into the room looking like a pissed off bull moose on the verge of rampaging through the building. His hair was disheveled and damp, the smell of rain clung to his skin and clothing, spotted from the droplets in places, soaked through in others. The small cold droplets rolling down his bare skin, nestling at the crook of his throat before absorbing into the fabric of his fatigues, others dripped from his bare arms onto the floor, leaving trails between his boot prints. He didn’t even approach the cage this time, leaving Rook to stare apprehensively through the bars of his open door. He didn’t move a muscle, not even realizing he was holding his breath in the palpable silence as Jacob leaned over his desk and scanned the surface for something. His eyes roamed around before his shoulders tensed. Rook dared a slow exhale at the same time, his heart picking up as if the action had been the trigger. In the dim lighting of the room, he watched those striking orbs turn to fix upon his figure heaped in the corner. Rook froze before a sharp command left his lips. “Come.” A hard gesture towards the space in front of him.

 

The deputy paused for a moment, seeing the irritation stirring under those sharp features. He pulled himself forward with his hands and adjusted his knees beneath himself as he crawled through the narrow space of the door. He didn’t dare stand on his injured leg, not when he was provided short bursts of relief from the pain as it ebbed for a few hours at a time. He dragged the limb behind him, pulling the heavy chain on his ankle with it. He no sooner reached the spot and a large strong hand met his throat, squeezing in warning as those eyes leveled on him. His grip tightened once more, constricting Rook’s throat as he gasped, watching his eyes for any sign, any give of fear or desperation. It took all Rook had to keep his hands on the floor, posting his body to keep from being choked more completely. He was terrified of where this was going but steeled himself the best he could against it. Jacob seemed put off by this, surprised even but the emotion was fleeting on his features before the hand withdrew, lowering down to tug at the tag on his collar. His thumb rubbed over the sunburst symbol engraved into the small silver plate, his lips curling up a fraction in amusement. “I think it’s time for some training.”

 

He stepped back towards the desk, glossing over a few papers on the surface before he tucked them away and dug around in the drawer until his hand pulled out to reveal a long leather leash with a silver clip at the end. He hooked it onto the D ring of the collar and gave a harsh tug towards him, forcing Rook to lose his balance and pitch forward. He grunted, the chain rustling against the ground as his legs shifted in a pitiful attempt to help stop his fall. He was caught by a hard grip to his shoulder, thumb pressing against his bandaged collarbone. He hissed through gritted teeth, eyes squeezing shut as bursts of white burned through him before ebbing away slowly to a dull thrum in his flesh. Jacob gave a low growl of approval at the response before he tugged the collar to force his head up towards him. A strong hand cupped the side of Rook’s face, fingers gently trailing through his hair and across the sun kissed flesh before pressing his thumb against his bottom lip.

 

Jacob coaxed his lips apart, pressing down on the bottom to urge him to open his mouth before sliding the first two digits in against his tongue. Rook was confused at the oddly intimate action, the taste of salt and rain pressing over his taste buds, the metallic tang and smoke of gunpowder and fire, the bitterness that followed, edging to the back of his throat, earthy and sharp. “Bite me and I’ll rip your fucking teeth out.” Jacob warned as he rolled his fingers over the deputy’s tongue, pinching the wet appendage in between and curling them to get him to work it a little more. Rook got the hint and obliged, lathing over the digits until they were damp with saliva and the odd mixture of flavors faded to a distant memory. Every breath replaced the tastes with the noticing of scents. The same smoky scent of wood fire and the earthy notes of the forest, damp and pristine, refreshed by the recent rain. The smell of the water on his skin, resting on coarse flesh and toned muscles, a predator through the woods, masking his true scent with the land around him. Primal and fierce.

 

It was surprisingly easy for Rook to give in, for his thoughts to drift and dull with the task. His hunger curled at the base of his stomach, pulling on the strings of his mind to remind him that he had yet to have his rations for the day. A few drinks of water in the morning after a considerably painful check up by the vet prodding at his leg with sharp tools and instruments, poking at the stitches and tender flesh. But he never received his meal for the day. He was balancing on the boundary lines between starvation and survival, so easy to tip over the edge and plummet. The way it was debilitating just going a few hours longer than normal for a meal. The painful knotting twisting up inside him.

 

An intrusive thought pressed to the forefront of his mind, the image of him just biting the fingers pressed inside his mouth. Jacob seemed to be poking the bear with this one, placing his hands near the maws of a starved dog. Were he a less rational man, less disciplined and trained, less experienced, he would have submitted to the dark thoughts, taking the offered digits as a replacement for his missed rations. Still, he entertained the thought, even giving it a slow prod as he closed his mouth little by little until Jacob’s fingers were snug between the canines of his teeth. The blunt implements pressing against his skin enough to give the elder man an idea of what was going through the deputy’s head. His eyes narrowed on him, meeting his gaze with a look that says ‘ _I dare you_.’ As if he’s already anticipating the punishment to follow at the attempt. The deputy pressed just enough to leave small indentations in the tops of Jacob’s fingers, just before the middle knuckles, the pads of his fingers curled slightly with the pressure against his skin but never breaking or drawing blood. After a few seconds, Rook opened his mouth more and watched as Jacob slowly removed his fingers. His expression was unreadable, blue orbs burrowing into him like knives as he considered what transpired.

 

He looked over the small indentations left on his skin afterwards, studying the marks with the same stony expression until he appeared to find a proper response. He wiped his fingers clean with the edges of his jacket, sighing softly before bringing his hand down sharp across Rook’s face. The back of his knuckles making contact with the side of his jaw, a hard thwack as the force caused him to fall over towards his side. This didn’t last long as the hard pull of the leash dragged him back up onto his knees. Rook didn’t raise his hands to fight back, he didn’t tense or recoil. He remained firm in his posture, deliberate, defiant. The glint in his eyes was all the answer Jacob needed. His lips thinned in a barely concealed smile. His eyes gave a brief hint of satisfaction before it was snuffed out.

 

“You are weak, pretending to be strong.” He pulled the leash back, forcing Rook towards the open awaiting palm that clutched his throat, digging blunt nails into his skin. Jacob pressed closer, the neatly trimmed scruff of his beard tickling at the edges of his ear and scratching his cheek as the low growl rumbled out. A shiver raced through the deputy’s body. “I will break you down then build you back up, to be strong. To be loyal. _To obey your Master._ ” He drew away as he pushed Rook back with a sharp shove to his throat. Rook choked at the force on his airway, a yelp leaving his lips as his whole body weight pressed down on his damaged leg. He clawed at the grimy tile flooring to get back up as the leash was pulled taut again as Jacob wound the cord around his hand, bunching it up inside his fist. His free hand found its way through the mess of locks, grasping at them as he snagged a hold and pried Rook’s head back, baring his throat to his master as he closed the space between them.

 

Rook’s eyes widened when he felt the weight of the ex-soldier against his chest, the rough material of the fatigues rubbing and catching on his chilled skin. The scratchy feeling of Jacob’s beard tickled his chin and moved down to his neck, just above the collar. The scrape of teeth across vulnerable flesh had the deputy frozen in place, feeling the drag as incisors found their way to his jugular, caging it in as his teeth pressed down in a threatening display of dominance. How easily he could bite down and end the Deputy’s miserable existence like the wolf he was. How terrifyingly vulnerable Rook was in this very moment, pinned beneath a true apex predator. Jacob’s will was the only thing keeping him alive.

 

His heart was hammering in his chest, a heavy thumping that was painful against the sides of his rib cage, loud enough that Rook swore Jacob could hear it. Fuck, he could probably feel it beneath his teeth, the quick throbbing of the muscles pumping adrenaline into his veins. The twitch of his fingers itching to defend himself but knowing full well if he so much as moved a muscle, it would be the end of him. He held his breath, didn’t realize it but it was stuck in his chest until it burned like fire in his lungs and his head swam dizzily. The room blotted out briefly, the metallic tang wafted through the air as the pain in his leg returned in full force. A searing white hot agony slicing through his skin, flaying it as if that fucking wolverine was back and clinging to it for dear life.

 

His leg twitched, the muscles cramping, wound and tight beneath his body. The skin seemed sticky and hard to pull away from the floor. He assumed it was just the position they were in or that the floor was so damn filthy it didn’t matter. The cold had already numbed his body from the waist down. The chill of the cage floor and the tile under his knees. Now pressed firmly at his back, he couldn’t stop the shivers threatening to rise along his body. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the pain, for the blood and the endless need for air. For death.

 

But it never came. His teeth drew away, fingertips gently touching across the bruise along his jaw where knuckles met thin malnourished flesh. He stroked his thumb across it as his body lifted the weight away from his sternum and he was able to breath again, drawing in a gulp of air. The other hand relinquished the hold of the leash, removing the clip from his collar before Rook even realized it had happened. Cold blue pools gazed down at him, content with the outcome. They roamed over his body with lazy satisfaction, fingers drawing down past his bandaged collarbone, over his Wrath tattoo, dancing along the prominent ridges of his ribs and lower, to his hips. They lingered there, thumb rolling over the sharp edges of bone that made up his pelvis, rubbing slow circles until the gaze lowered further. His features drew tight, unreadable once more, eyes hardening as whatever was starting to form in them during their inspection was quickly smothered and something more business like took its place.

 

When the hand dropped lower, out of Rook’s view, he was greeted with another sharp shock of pain that made him jolt against the floor. The fingers tightened around his ankle, the other hand bracing his bent knee as it slowly worked the damaged limb out into the open. The metallic scent was stronger now, the sticky feeling spread across his skin before a slow rolling warmth dribbled down. _‘Fuck.’_ Rook silently cursed as he was gathered up into Jacob’s arms like a rag doll, too shocked to really do anything else in response. He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed through the pain, the adrenaline took the edge off but as his heart started to settle, the mercy of his own instincts ebbed, reviving the fire in his limb.

 

He was placed on the exam table, lying in a partial fetal position with his damaged leg resting on the cold surface. Jacob was gone for only a few minutes, Rook hadn’t noticed until he heard the soft boot steps returning to his side, followed by sloppier sounding steps, heavy, clunky and unevenly paced. The vet had entered the room, already manhandling his leg, obviously lacking any form of bedside manner care providers usually have. The bandages were peeled off to expose the gaping lacerations, the healing flesh ripped back open, clean breaks in the stitches that kept them together. The warmth pooled over the metal surface of the table and ran up along his knee and thigh, spreading down towards his ankle.

 

Rook turned to look at the vet but was met with a full view of Jacob present between them, his hard blue eyes meeting the deputy’s, reminding him to stay still and be obedient. It wasn’t long before a small mercy followed the presence, Jacob was handed a hastily prepared syringe which he was directed to give to Rook. Rook shook his head in refusal, finding the Seed family and any form of drugs was a really deadly concoction. Jacob answered his protests by pinning his hands to the table with his free one, putting his weight into the deputy’s wrists, keeping them crossed and tightly held in place. The needle breached the inside of one arm, sliding in with a subtle pinch before a bitter warmth flooded his veins. The acrid burning of bile rested in the back of Rook’s throat, feeling sick as the lead feeling settled in his limbs. The haze drafted over his mind, reeling it into a quiet lull, his eyes slipping shut as scarred knuckles brushed against his cheek bone.


	3. Chapter 3

Rook remained unconscious for several hours before the drug started to wear off and he was freed from their grasp, the cloudy haze of his mind lingered even as his eyes opened and his head started to move. To orient himself and make sense of his surroundings. Everything felt off, unusual and strange. He shifted slowly, feeling an odd fabric against his skin, warmed by his own body heat and soft. His eyes blinked a few times in the dim lighting before they started to focus, taking in the dark green forest camouflage, feeling the soft cushion and fluff within the material with a curl of his fingers around it. He frowned in puzzlement at first but dismissed it when his attention was drawn to the additional sensations of warmth and pressure. His hand trailed down and discovered a thin sheet pulled over his lower half. It was big enough to cover his whole body but seemed to have slipped down to his waist over time.

 

He made a soft sound in his throat that bordered on a groan as he plopped his upper half back down onto the bed and sprawled. He didn’t care if he was sleeping on a dog bed, it sure as hell was better than the hard cold floor. He just feared what the outcome would be. Jacob Seed did not do _‘nice_ ’ things for others. He would not give unless he was taking something greater in return. At this point, Rook had been given a lot by the lunatic eldest Seed, his life, his mercy, food, water, a bed. Everything but a bullet in the brain like he’d anticipated. He could only imagine what the _take_ was going to be in the end. He couldn’t fathom why Jacob was going through all this trouble, keeping him alive after he’d killed half his family and a majority of his men.

 

His eyes closed as he forced his way through the fog still lingering in his thoughts. He huffed a sigh and shook his head slowly as he tried to relax. It was the least he could do in the rare quiet. Rook had become so used to explosions and gunshots that peace and quiet was foreign to him now. Even in the deepest parts of Hope County forest, he couldn’t escape the roar of battle. It was funny, that he’d find his long awaited silence here of all places, in the wolf’s den.

 

He started to drift off into a lighter sleep when the door to the room opened with a slow creak then snapped shut with a jarring click like it’d been kicked closed behind someone. Rook opened his eyes to see the familiar set of fatigue clad legs strolling across the room towards his cage. The door was wide open as usual, it didn’t really matter since he couldn’t reach anything of use, just one of the other cages and the examination table. The chain stopped short a few feet from the desk and the door. He quit exploring outside his cage by the second day and usually just waited until Jacob interacted with him.

 

Today was proving to be more different with the passing minutes. Jacob had entered with his hands occupied, a cardboard box resting in his grasp, held carefully with a stack of papers resting on top and something like a tray on top of that. Rook’s mouth watered as a savory scent drifted around the room, something fresh, hot and real. Usually his meals consisted of canned rations, barely warmed and stale bread so hard he’d have to gnaw on it until his jaws hurt to even eat it. He watched as Jacob set the box on top of the adjacent cage, taking the tray in hand, he knelt before Rook’s cage and gestured for him to approach the threshold with a wave of his hand. “Come here pup.” He spoke a little too sweetly for Rook’s liking, setting his nerves ablaze and his instincts telling him to be on high alert. Problem was, he didn’t have the energy to be tense and wary like he used to. He winced as he dragged his leg along behind him, shuffling towards the doorway before stopping in front of the redhead.

 

He was met with a wolfish grin as he held out the tray to Rook. It had a handful of raw carrots and a dinner roll on it, but what really got Rook’s attention was the fresh meat. A majority of the animals in Hope County were so tainted with Bliss, it was hard to find good safe meat. Some parts of John’s region were safe but a large portion of Jacob’s was too, at least for prey animals. The predators were vicious and driven mad by the Bliss experiments. Many of which seemed to have a personal vendetta against Rook on any given day.

 

It had been a long time since Rook had real, good meat from anything in this damn county. At least not since the Testicle Festival in Fall’s End. Though he was too drunk to remember how that went. Rook’s thoughts were interrupted as Jacob placed the tray down in front of his pet, a hand reaching out for Rook to press up into, bowing his head so the fingers could curl and weave through the mess of hair. He pet his hand back over his head a few times, almost fondly in the action before he drew away and left Rook to eat on his own. He was hesitant at first, feeling uneasy with the change up on his meal but desperation and hunger out won his rational mind. It was possibly the best damn meal he’s eaten in months, maybe even before that.

 

All the while, Jacob returned to his desk, box in hand once more as he rifled through the paperwork on top, going over that first and leaving the box for later. After the meal. Rook pushed the tray so it sat outside of the cage as per usual to show he was finished and returned to his dog bed. He burrowed under the sheet and wrapped it around himself more tightly as he settled in. The meal was far more filling then he was used to which was a pleasant surprise.

 

After the meal, Jacob repeated the action when he gave Rook a few drinks from the canteen, controlling the amounts he was given with fingers gripping his hair and head tipped back. Rook no longer tensed at the action, expecting it as soon as the silver container came into view. Jacob didn’t do much else in the following days. Bringing Rook his rations for the day then sitting quietly doing his work. He spent an unusual amount of time in the room with the deputy, unlike before but he assumed it was a necessity of paperwork. Jacob was always obsessing over it, running numbers, checking files, double and triple checking, rerouting information or supply lines according to scout reports. It was easy to see the soldier at work, to think he was completely sane and normal. That Rook wasn’t just another captive in Jacob’s little corner of hell but a welcome observer to the man’s everyday life. By the third day, Jacob finished his paperwork and stood up with an abrupt action causing the chair to creak suddenly.

 

Rook stirred from his nap, eyes following Jacob’s form in the dim lighting of the desk lamp. It was late and he didn’t bother turning the main lights on in the office. Jacob opened the bottom drawer of his desk and retrieved the same leather leash from before, holding it carefully in his grasp as he turned, taking the chair in his free hand and pulling it over to sit in the center of the room. He slipped down into the seat with a tired sigh as if he hadn’t been sitting in it for hours on end already, legs resting evenly apart as he leaned back. “Come here pup.” Jacob commanded in that sharp tone of voice, pointing towards the space between his legs.

 

Rook obeyed, not out of fear or obligation. It was second nature at this point, what came in Jacob’s presence was food, water, physical touch. Rook knew Jacob was conditioning him, knew he was working him into a corner with these little gifts and allowances, twisting his mind and his senses to go against him. He had dreaded it from day one, but he was helpless to deny these necessities, to function, despite the loss of his humanity in the man’s eyes. He knew he was nothing more than a dog at this point, Jacob made that point clear, but it wasn’t just the eldest Seed that was at fault for that. Rook had been slowly conditioned to be this way his whole life. He was a victim of his environment, shaped by the people in his life, the job he had, the training he went through. He was conditioned to obey and perform. Jacob was just the one to wiggle the veil free that Rook had been keeping in place to disguise this as him just doing his job and not the fact it was all he was.

 

When he reached the place he was directed towards, the free hand came down to reward him with fingers in his hair and a thumb stroking across his cheek. It dropped lower to grip his collar and attach the leash to the D ring. “Good boy, pup.” He praised, a low rumble in his voice of satisfaction as he carried on. “Your training continues. If you deviate from what I tell you, all those little allowances I’ve offered can be taken away. You’ll start back at the beginning with nothing.” He warned, the hand at Rook’s throat pressing in, tightening to remind him of his control and dominance over the deputy. His blue orbs searching Rook’s face for a response but the deputy was so used to Jacob’s threats at this point that he didn’t flinch or recoil. He seemed amused by this and let go, fingers pulling back to his belt, sliding the buckle free and flicking the button out of his fatigues, opening up his trousers. His other hand gripped the leash tightly, keeping Rook close between his legs. “Be a good dog and give your Master a few licks.” He urged.

 

The tension that had been absent for so long had suddenly formed in Rook’s shoulders, tight with apprehension. It jarred the lull that Rook had sunken into after so many days. The curt tug of the leash pulled him closer, the hard features of Jacob’s face giving him warning once more. He was expecting Rook to obey. The deputy’s mind was fuzzy with conflict as he contemplated the order. He knew the repercussions for refusal, for all he knew, Jacob might just shoot him and be done with it, or starve him again like he had last time and repeat the process. He’d go back to being cold and hungry and in pain. It wasn’t long ago that his pride would have preferred that result over giving in but now, the stakes were different. He had people relying on him. People that needed him. He was halfway to his goal, to Joseph Seed and he couldn’t let it all end here. Not after the bullshit with John and all the hallucinations with Faith. Not after Marshall Burke.

 

He swallowed his pride and leaned in closer, fingers rising up slowly to Jacob’s thighs. One to brace against, the other to coax the half hard length from his boxers out into the open. He licked his lips to wet them in nervous preparation. Not to say he hadn’t had sexual encounters before, Rook had but he was young, brash and thought he was tough shit. It had been a very sobering experience for him, teaching him a few things about himself that he wasn’t prepared for and since then, he’d avoided it. It wasn’t traumatic but he found his sex drive was just as easily sated with a few strokes of the hand and some ridiculous fantasy that lasted only moments then would fade away just as quickly so he could continue with his day. Never once had he serviced anyone, least of all like this.

 

His amateur knowledge must have been painfully clear as he gave it a few slow strokes with his fingers, feeling around Jacob’s heated length until it was almost at full hardness. It took a bit of coaxing and testing what seemed to get a response from the man. He provided small licks here and there to add some lubrication. The look in his eyes was comical confusion to Jacob as he cursed the younger man. “Have you never had a blowjob before?”

 

The deputy straightened up with a jolt from the voice. He gave a sheepish shake of his head, drawing a dry chuckle from Jacob. “Put it in your mouth, pet.” He commanded sternly. Rook’s gaze flitted back and forth, between Jacob’s hard gaze and the heated flesh in his grasp before he conceded, pressing close enough that his weight was braced almost completely against Jacob’s thighs. He took him in inch by inch until he was half way in, closing his lips around the flesh as Jacob’s fingers found their way to his hair and guided his head back and forth to set the pace. If Jacob wanted this done right, he had to be patient and teach otherwise he’d end up with a damaged pet and little satisfaction on his end. It was slow going as Jacob directed him to what he desired, to use more tongue and suck harder, hollowing out his cheeks and relaxing his throat. To swallow a certain way and at what point to avoid gagging. He chastised him sharply anytime teeth met skin and he’d bite back a curse, fingers gripping his hair so tightly, it caused shoots of pain in his scalp but they would relax after he corrected his form.

 

Soon Jacob was groaning in satisfaction, head tipped back, fingers still gripping Rook’s hair to keep the pace up, rubbing softly across the tender skin in praise along the way. “That’s it. Good boy.” As he neared the edge, he pulled the leash harder, restricting how far Rook could go back and soon pulling it until he was forced to take him a little deeper, short measured motions, sucking harder and swallowing around the tip of his shaft. Jacob growled out, low and pleased as he bucked his hips in short jerky thrusts, catching Rook off guard. His eyes dampened with the urge to choke and gag before the hot bitter seed spilled over the back of his throat. He swallowed again, feeling it sticky in his mouth, trouble going down. Jacob held him there as he had a fit of struggling, trying to breath around the intrusion, nails digging into the cloth of his fatigues and leaving blunt crescents in his thighs. Soon Jacob released his hold and let Rook draw back, hands rising to his mouth to cover as he hacked and coughed, head tipped down before Jacob.

 

“Not bad for a first time.” Jacob mused with disinterest. “We’ll work on it.” He hummed, cleaning himself up as he put himself back together and fixed his clothes. Rook was kept close on the leash as Jacob pulled it slowly, urging him back in between his thighs. Rook cleared his throat a few times until he gave up altogether. Fingers pressed into his hair, drawing through the locks as Jacob petted over them. Rook’s head was urged to rest against his thigh like a real dog showing affection to his master, his body tucked up close as he rested on his knees. The deputy felt a dizziness as Jacob started to hum softly, the song was familiar in his ears as his vision drifted back and forth between hazes of reds and pinks but never tipping over the edge. The tune was broken and slow, measured enough to keep him from falling completely under the spell. He went slack against the man’s body like all his strength was drained from him, his eyes gazing out at a fixed point of the wall in the darkness, a foggy dream plucking at his thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

The next meal time was met with another surprise for the deputy. Jacob brought him a thick hearty stew and a dinner roll, presenting them both at the threshold of his cage. Rook made his way over to the doorway and received the usual praise to his head, fingers through his hair and a gentle touch to his cheek. Each time it would linger a little longer before Jacob would back away and let him eat in peace. After the meal, he got a few more drinks from the canteen to help wash it all down and was about to head back to his bed when Jacob spoke up. “Come pup.” He picked up the empty dishes and sat them on the desk, gesturing for Rook to follow him out. The leash was reattached to his collar, the anklet was unlocked allowing him the freedom to rise to his feet as Jacob jerked the leash up. His free hand patting his chest in a gesture for him to stand.

 

Rook hasn’t realized just how painful that was, making his legs hold him again after he’d been stuck on all fours for so long. He groaned, his legs protesting, knees popping and grinding in painful motions as the muscles cramped up, tight and wound. His injury had healed decently enough at this point that it was less of a worry but it didn’t make it any easier. Jacob wasn’t in the mindset to be patient about it either, urging him along to start walking, forcing him to trail along behind him as they left the office and entered the hallway. Their room was at the end of it, leading down to a sharp corner that quickly turned into a maze of locked doors and more corners. The deputy did his best to keep up, feeling the collar tug hard when he’d lag too short of the leash and stumble forward. It felt like they had traveled to the other side of the surprisingly massive building by the time they reached a set of heavier doors. Jacob pushed them open and revealed a locker room like set up. He ushered Rook towards the open shower area and pushed him forward so he stood beneath the nozzles.

 

His hand gripped the deputy’s throat in warning as he unclipped the leash and took a few steps back, his free hand moving to rest on the gun at his side to show there was no way he would be able to run very far. “Strip.” Jacob commanded. Rook did so with little hesitation. He wasn’t ashamed of his body in any way, he’s been in worse situations before and vanity has never really been his concern. He tossed his boxers to the corner of the shower so it laid in a crumpled heap on the floor. Jacob approved with a hum and flipped a switch to access the water. It was set on a timer to prevent overuse. A generic bar of soap was tossed to him, causing Rook to drop it and have to scramble after it on the chipped tile floor. He cursed the elder man as he started to clean up his body, letting the lukewarm spray wash over him.

 

He was quick to work the grime off of his skin, using the same bar to scrub his hair clean before he rinsed off, making quick work and only slowing his pace around his tender leg. The water shut off not long after, causing him to relinquish the soap to the floor and run his hands through his damp hair to clear the droplets from his face. Jacob tossed a towel towards him, a rough itchy blue fabric to dry off with. He wasn’t given any new clothing, just a sharp command to come as the leash was fixed in place. Rook tied the towel around his waist and followed as they made their way back to the office. There were a handful of the Faithful that passed by in the halls, eyes staring at him, wide and puzzled. Their scruffy appearances made them look like vagrants, the looks aimed his way made his skin crawl. A few of them stopped altogether to stand and jab at each other, murmuring crude words back and forth with their eyes flicking back to Rook.  It didn’t last long when Jacob snapped at them to get back to their posts, the flock of bystanders scattered and the halls emptied out leaving them alone.

 

Rook was surprisingly relieved when they returned to the office, the door clicking shut behind them as he was gestured towards the center of the room. He sank down to his knees, the chair already put in its place before him. Jacob relinquished the hold on the leash and moved towards the cardboard box that had been sitting on the desk, pulling the flaps open as he inspected the contents. “Obedience will always be met with reward. Disobedience will get your privileges taken away from you. There is a punishment for every action, pup.” Rook watched as Jacob withdrew a long slender black object, hard to make out at first, with a flat tip at one end and a solid handle that his fingers curled around with odd familiarity.

 

Jacob approached his pet with measured strides, the tip of the crop resting against the palm of his hand as he tapped it in sharp ticks. It was thoughtful, considerate as hungry eyes devoured the man before him. Rook’s nerves revived as the crop touched underneath his chin, raising it up to meet his gaze. “Pain is a diverse pleasure. The mind can be tricked into seeing the different shades of pain in new light, to like the hurt. To enjoy the burn. To be stronger.” He walked around Rook slowly, the tip of the crop resting on his shoulder then gliding down his back in teasing motions. A shiver stirred in his body before the tip left his skin only to be brought back down with a sharp white hot pain. It sliced across his skin with a burn that was far too familiar, too real. It drove deep into a place that Rook had ignored for so long, had tried to smother and bury for the life of him. A hiss left his lips but he didn’t move. Too shocked by the realization.

 

The tip of the crop danced across the red lash resting across his spine before it left another mark crisscrossing that. Then another. Rook hissed through clenched teeth, fingers curled into tight fists before Jacob made his way around to his front. The crop teased at his chest, raised to his chin then slowly sliding down his throat to his collarbone where the scar rested from the arrow, healed over now. It stopped over the tattoo of Wrath that his little brother had left on the deputy. A low growl rumbled from his throat before the crop came down over the black inky lines, followed by a second and third, crossing out the name with raised red welts of flesh. Rook’s eyes were fixed on the eldest Seed brother as he raised his arm to strike again. He was stunned as the crop was caught, laid over Rook’s open palm, fingers curled tightly around it before wrenching it from Jacob’s grip, surprised by the action. He expected it to be used back on him, anticipated the return of the sting, a reminder of the abuses their parents placed upon their bodies but instead watched in bewilderment and irritation as Rook took the crop in two hands and snapped it with a fire burning in his eyes, angry and painful. _There was Wrath_. He could see it now, what John and Joseph had seen. The sin of the man before him and it excited him.

 

His fingers enclosed around Rook’s throat as the broken pieces were dropped before Jacob’s feet. His body was pulled into an awkward position, forcing his hands on the ground in front of him to brace against the floor lest he fall on his face or be choked by the weight of his own body against Jacob’s vice grip. His gaze never wavered, the fire never faltered as he met Jacob’s steely blue eyes. There was the same notes of challenge and defiance that had appeared the first time he tried to ‘train’ Rook. It was becoming a habit, like Jacob was breaking through the seals that unraveled the man piece by piece, slowly unleashing the beast within and it was hungry and full of fire.

 

He changed tactics, invoking punishment instead as he pulled Rook towards the chair. He manhandled the deputy until he was bent over his lap, using the towel around his waist to wrap the deputy’s wrists in and bind them together, held tightly in place as he worked his belt from his fatigues and folded it over. The deputy’s bare skin was exposed to the cold as Jacob leaned down, beard brushing against the shell of his ear as he spoke in a low snarl. “That wasn’t very nice pup. You shouldn’t break things that aren’t yours. I guess we’ll have to do this the old fashion way.” Rook shivered, feeling the tickle of hair at his neck, ghosting over his shoulder until teeth met the exposed flesh, sinking in with a burning heat that sliced through his chest and nestled into a tight ball just below his stomach. He bit his lip, feeling them verge on breaking skin before the voice returned to his ear. “You bite me, I bite you.”

 

The dizziness that swelled up on him guided in a whirlwind of excitement was leveled out as the belt snapped hard against his skin, leaving a thick red line across his ass. He jolted in response. “I’d tell you to count but I’m pretty sure you’re a mute.” Jacob mused, a low chuckle in his throat as he continued, one snap after another, turning red lines to blue and black bruises. Every strike was fire up through Rook, burning in the pit of his stomach and causing a dizzying wave to lap over and seize his mind. His back arched after about five or six, a new problem formed between his legs, rubbing up against Jacob’s fatigues. He wasn’t sure if the military man noticed or not, hoping for little mercies but it was fruitless as Jacob continued up to eight and nine. His problem was leaking precum, damp against the friction. He couldn’t stifle the moan that broke from his chest at number ten.

 

The belt stopped, a hand pressed over his battered rear, strong hands squeezing and rubbing the bruising. He squirmed in Jacob’s lap, desperate and incomplete, the hand still holding his wrists pulled him up as he was repositioned to sit straddled on Jacob’s thighs, his back to the soldier’s chest, a strong arm around his waist, fingers rubbing down along the slender body, outlining the dips and trenches of flesh and bone. His hand dropped lower, brushing over the Deputy’s ‘problem’ as the beard tickled the back of his neck. Hot breath ghosting across chilled skin. His face had heated up, showing the true colors of his embarrassment and anger. A laugh warbled out, deep and enticing, earthy in the best way like damp soil and fresh roots bathed in morning dew.

 

“Your mind is a beautiful thing. It acknowledges pain and produces pleasure.” Jacob purred into his ear, rough calloused fingers curling around Rook’s shaft and giving it a few teasing strokes. Rook bit down on his lip, hard enough to taste copper across his tongue, his head tipped back as his thighs twitched, spreading to find leverage and buck up into the gentle fingers, the pad of a thumb rolling over his slit sending shocks of pleasure into his groin adding to the building heat. The soreness of the welts on his ass grinding down against the fatigues only worsened this desire. His breath caught in his throat as he was coaxed up to near completion, whining when the fingers withdrew. He squirmed to get his hands free but the grip on his wrists tightened, as did the arm around his waist. “You’ve been a bad dog, pup.” Jacob reminded. “Do you really think you deserve satisfaction? Did you earn it?” Rook was silent, holding completely still in Jacob’s arms. “Would you like to earn it?” There was a quick nod that pulled Jacob’s lips up into a wolfish grin. “Good.”

 

He shift Rook off of his lap so he was kneeling on the ground, his features hesitant, flitting from Jacob’s face to the beltless waistline of his fatigues. Jacob pointed his finger towards his cage to direct his attention to the command he was giving. “If you want relief, there it is.” Rook was even more confused now, looking back towards Jacob. “You’re a dog, right? Dog’s fuck inanimate objects. If you want release you can only get it from humping your bed. If you use your hands, I’ll break your fingers.” Rook flinched at the threat and crawled his way towards the bed, the towel clutched in his fingers for something to grab and keep them busy. He was awkward and embarrassed, feeling those eyes on him, devouring him in every aspect. His shoulder throbbed where Jacob’s teeth had left their mark in his flesh, reminding him that he was owned. He couldn’t escape this unless he played by the eldest Seed’s rules. He grunted and straddled the bed awkwardly, slotting it between his legs as he wrapped his arms around it, clutching it to his chest as his fingers locked back on to the towel. He slowly started moving his hips, rubbing his aching shaft across the soft fabric of the bed, rolling them slowly, trying to get a rhythm and position that was comfortable.

 

When he found it, his motions became more frantic, teeth biting down on the cushion as he panted and groaned. Jacob’s eyes watching every second as Rook humped his bed like a dog in heat, trying to ignore the presence in the room. It did little when Jacob started to hum that broken tune once again. His body heated up, filled with a swirling dizziness as his vision tinted rose and drifted between the smattering of reds and pinks, separated only by warped shadows as he drifted back and forth between lucidity and the tendrils of the song’s spell. He bit down harder on the bed, his thighs spread further as he rolled his hips in sharp quick thrusts until he spewed his seed across the previously clean fabric. Thick white staining the camouflage patterns as he shuddered, whines and groans coming out between panting breaths before he slumped against the bed altogether, his head swam with dizzying euphoria that threw him topsy turvy until he could no longer make sense of his surroundings.

 

The creak of the door on his cage sounded with the metallic click to follow, locking him in like the dog he was. “Good boy.” The voice came out slow and soft, almost missed through the thundering of his heart as he rolled his head to the side to see. Jacob was crouched beside the cage, hand outreached to see if Rook would muster the energy to come to the edge. He had enough to reach his hand out towards him. Jacob seemed to consider that as good enough and took it like a paw, giving it a firm shake, thumb rolling over the back of scarred knuckles and fingertips before he sat it back down to rest against the cold of the floor, turning on his heel to clean up the mess.


	5. Chapter 5

To Rook’s relief and slight anxiety, Jacob became far more busy in the following days after the odd punishment he received. His body was riddled with welts and dark bruises between the crop and the belt, making it hard for him to get comfortable again. He lucked out that his bed was reversible so he could sleep on the clean side after what Jacob made him do, the shame still lingered in the deputy’s stomach every time he dwelled on that experience. He was pleased to have some peace and quiet. Though, he should have known it wouldn’t last long. It never does in Hope County. Not when the Seeds are around. Yes, the _Seeds._

 

Rook didn’t know if it was another trick of Jacob’s training or just his mind finally coming unraveled after everything the family of lunatics had put him through, but whatever it was, he was no longer alone in that room. The other two cages present were far from empty. The darkness was burned away by the soft orange glow of the desk lamp, offering a shred of illumination against the dark backdrop of the room. His cage was the furthest one from the other two, giving him a clear line of sight where they were pushed against the far wall. It wasn’t that much of a gap, just long enough that he was out of arm's reach encase there were other human occupants within.

 

The soft giggle and bitter scent on the air, pungent with floral notes so familiar it made his stomach knot up. Long caramel hair draped down over the pale shoulders of the young girl, body clad in the same old white blouse, always way too bright for his liking but stained on the very edges from walking through fields of flowers with their pollen seeped into the edges. She wore a smile on her face as she always did, even in her death, she looked at peace. Something that rubbed Rook the wrong way at the time, disturbed him in ways that it probably shouldn’t. Maybe that was just his spite after she forced Burke to kill Virgil and then himself.

 

 _“You no longer look lost.”_ Her voice was as sickeningly sweet as usual. Her hand reached through the bars of the cage towards him, fingers just falling short, her smile remained, despite the failed contact. _“You’re on the right path. The one that will lead you to him, to the Father. You must be patient and he will deliver you to your purpose. Your rightful place, it was destined to be you know.”_

 

Rook shook his head, trying to ignore the girl as he reached up to push away from the bars. He winced at the pain still in his leg now added to the pain of his rear and his back. His fingers gripped the bars tightly before the other voice came, thicker and more pronounced. It still held all the charismatic charm that was displayed on the television broadcasts daily. “ **He will pull the sin from you. You will atone in the end and walk the path as the rest of us have.** ” Rook’s gaze flitted to the cage furthest away. The torso still adorned in the blue shirt with the black vest. The long coat was carefully folded at his side as if it were too hot and bothersome to wear at the moment. His back was at one set of bars, positioning his body so he was facing Rook. His hair and beard were immaculate as always, unlike their crazed and filthy followers. The Seeds always looked presentable, distinguished. Like an upper class western family. John’s blue eyes gazed into his. Rook felt a shiver race down his spine, a cold chill seeping into his blood.

 

He was frozen in place, unable to move on his own, fingers gripping the bars so tightly his knuckles turned white. One part of him screamed to turn away, to move as far away from the pair as possible but he couldn’t make his body move. The other part was still seething with rage at what these two had done to his companions. His thoughts reflecting back to the mark of greed John carved out of Nick’s chest, the sounds of his screams echoing in the back of his mind, far too loud in the Fall’s End church. He had watched Nick baby his injury for so long afterwards, the look on Kim’s face was even more worrisome when Rook brought her husband back to her in a broken exhausted state. He assured them both that he was fine, but Rook knew better. Kim had confided in him that Nick had had nightmares ever since.

 

Since Eden’s Gate, Rook had been plagued with the same sort of terrors brought on by the violence and twisted deeds of the Seed family. These people had occupied more then enough of his time in his waking world and now they continued to taunt him in his sleep. It was a never ending circle, that which even their deaths couldn’t free him from. Even now, he wasn’t able to pry himself away from these specters that continued to lecture him. To speak of the Father and of his sin. Of his Wrath. Even acknowledging their own deaths as proof that his sin was growing and consuming him.

 

Their voices drifting back and forth between them. Faith’s soft and sweet, lulling like the floral fumes that wove their way through his mind, infecting it with her Bliss. John’s energetic and fiery, burning their way into him like the blade that he used to cut everyone’s sins out. Carving through his mind, flaying bits and pieces off of it until it was shaped how he desired. How he deemed the Father would approve. Rook’s body was tense, muscles wound and pulled as if prepared for the attack but his hands never left the bars.

 

He had been like that for hours before Jacob made his routine check in on his pet, to bring him water and drop a few documents off to be taken care of later. When he opened the door, he shut it loudly, blue eyes firmly fixed on his pet who sat in an awkward posture against the bars. His eyes were distant but drawn wide, staring at the empty cages beside him. Jacob placed his documents down on the desk and slowly approached the cage, awaiting for the deputy to follow his usual routine of acknowledging the soldier’s presence and making himself compliant to his will. None of this happened. He set the canteen down beside him as he opened the cage door, the creak of the hinges did little to draw him out of his trance. Jacob noted the unusually pale complexion, the sweat beading down his skin despite the heat not being all that terrible in the room. It was mild compared to the rest of the facility. He noticed the tightness in Rook’s bare shoulders, the muscles drawn beneath his skin, the visible flexing and the lack of color on his knuckles.

 

Jacob spoke up in a firm tone. “Come here pup.” He waited a few heartbeats but the command went unanswered. He spoke again, repeating the command but once more was met with silence and an absence of movement. His eyes didn’t even blink. Jacob frowned, lifting his fingers to his lips as he let out a loud sharp whistle that sliced through the hallucinations plaguing his pet’s mind. Rook jolted, releasing the bars to cover his ears in a frantic attempt. His body weight shifted back onto his bruised and welted rear, causing pain to burn up his spine, reducing him to a curled up heap in the corner, hands over his ears and eyes squeezed shut. Jacob rapped his knuckles against the floor of the cage, the vibrations drawing Rook’s eyes open and towards his Master. A silent gesture of the hand demanding he come and Rook unfurled from his pile and crawled towards the threshold.

 

His eyes darting to the other cages, frantically searching for any sign of the specters before turning towards the rest of the room. He wouldn’t expect John to reappear but Faith’s visage had a habit of following him everywhere. He had trekked all over her region with that ghostly vision prancing around him, singing softly in his ear, her white bloused figure carried on the wind with the scent of her Bliss permeating the entire region, even up on mountain sides where the air should have offered a brief peace from the bitter stench. It only made him more secluded and her apparition more prominent. No matter how many times he’d shoot it, it always kept popping back up and twirling around him.

 

“What is wrong?” Jacob’s voice freed him from his own thoughts, caged in with the fearful tendrils plucking at his conscience. Rook kept his head ducked low to avoid meeting Jacob’s gaze, the first time he had ever done something like that to the eldest Seed brother and it hadn’t gone unnoticed. Jacob hooked his fingers under his chin and lifted his head so Rook was forced to meet his attention. “Speak pup.” It was a sharp command but was only met with Rook’s empty obedience. The fingers tightened on his chin, nails pressing bruises into his skin in frustration. The deputy waited several seconds before opening his mouth like he was about to speak but then closed it slowly, shaking his head much the same.

 

Jacob tensed, his grip firm, growing stronger with the passing seconds before he conceded, releasing his hold. A sigh left his chest as he cursed, muttering something about ‘mute’ and ‘pet’ as he turned his attention to the canteen. He unscrewed the lid and resumed their usual routine, trying to salvage what little bit of it he could. Fingers curled into Rook’s hair, drawing his head back. The deputy’s lips parted, eager for the drink to come and letting it pool over his tongue and down his throat. It offered some relief from his episode, helping ease his fears as he settled into the lull of their usual interactions. Jacob’s fingers brushing over his hair. After the drink, the leash returned to his collar and he was brought from the cage over to the desk where he’d sit between the man’s legs, head resting on Jacob’s thigh as the man worked. His silence and obedience would be rewarded with small pats atop his head or fingers curling through his hair, the strands growing longer and more wild with time.

 

It was growing late in the evening when Jacob finally finished his work for the night, leaning back in his chair as he stretched his arms above his head. His muscular form pulling in a way that drew the deputy’s attention. His eyes taking in the way he moved beneath the fatigues, the curt rise of his shirt from his belt, his outfit in a bit of disarray from the busy day. A thought plucked at Rook’s mind, wondering if Jacob had any of the markings on his body like John and Joseph. If his sins were carved into his flesh like the rest of them. Or if he had the wounds of war from his tour in Iraq. It was all so puzzling. Jacob wasn’t like any of the others. He had his own flavor of crazy, quiet and controlled. He didn’t wear it on his skin and maybe, Rook considered, in another life, Jacob may have been someone he’d love to acquaint himself with. He was certainly more preferable then the other three either that or the eldest Seed brother had more of his claws sunk into Rook’s mind then he realized.

 

“Like what you see?” Jacob teased, pulling a sudden red swell to rush up over Rook’s face when he was caught ogling the man. He turned his head away defiantly which only resulted in a hand on his face pulling his gaze back to meet knowing blue eyes. Rook huffed in annoyance, tilted his gaze just above Jacob’s to avoid meeting him directly, looking past him when a flicker of white and the scent of bitter bliss pulled at his senses. He jolted, losing his balance as the back of his head struck the low edge of the desk. He hissed as sharp pain sliced through his skull like a nail, white and searing. He squeezed his eyes shut as his hands covered the spot, feeling the tender skin and searching for any sign of blood with his fingertips. Jacob made a sound in his throat that Rook couldn’t decipher, the hands were on him again, pulling him up to his feet. His knees protested the action as Jacob inspected the new injury. There was a little bit of blood but nothing more.

 

“You’re unusually wired today.” Jacob observed, patting the locks back into their usual position and feeling the bump already forming beneath. Rook was pale all over again, what little bit of a healthy complexion he had recovered in their idle companionship was now lost to the dreaded specters that haunted him. Strong fingers gripped the sides of his face, redirecting his attention back to Jacob, ensuring this time that he couldn’t escape his gaze no matter what. A soft hum on his lips pulling the rose tinted vision to the edges, he swayed in Jacob’s hold, the tense and taut form melting away to something more compliant and malleable. It didn’t last long, fading with the minutes as the broken tune did as well, freeing him from its grasp but keeping him docile. A pleasant hum thrumming through his body like static dancing across his skin and playing with his senses.

 

He knew Jacob had conditioned his prey to respond violently to that tune, to fall into line and kill under orders. To be reduced to their basic most primal needs and obey, but Jacob knew how to make it do more than that. How to twist it to soothe the basic human needs for comfort and companionship. To quell the wrath in Rook’s heart just as easily as it was to revive it and let it burn and consume everything around him. He was the pied piper in this game and Rook was just another pawn dancing at the end of his flute. “You really don’t talk at all, do you?” Jacob asked, his voice soft as he inspected Rook’s features, seeing all the questions and confusion swirling around in torrents within his eyes. His thumb stroked over his cheek, admiring the amenable calm that settled on the surface, despite the strong currents below.

 

Rook didn’t answer his question, staring blankly up at the man as he watched the small red locks fall from their tidy placements down into his eyes. He watched Jacob’s forehead crease in thought, small shreds of frustration bubbling up but he smoothed it over with a sigh. “They say the loudest voice is always produced from quiet actions. My brothers can talk until they’re blue in the face, but your silent deeds have greater impact than their preaching.” He sighed once more, reaching up to draw the disheveled strands back into some semblance of their previous state. He left Rook standing as he retrieved the canteen from the edge of the desk, offering a few more drinks to the deputy before he was sent back to his cage for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I no sooner finished writing this chapter and came down with the flu so chances are the next chapter will be delayed unless I had a miraculous recovery by the days end. 
> 
> Don't forget to kudos and comment below. Thank you all for your support so far. It really means a lot to me.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was feeling a bit better after a 7+ hour nap. Just enough to start working on this again. Here's the next chapter. Enjoy!

Rook wasn't given peace, even after he was dismissed to his cage, the door locked behind him. Jacob left the lamp light on as a sort of night light before leaving him in until morning. Minutes ticked by, giving the illusion of solace before John’s voice filtered through. It was more preferable than Faith’s, the kind he could fall asleep to if the content of his conversation wasn't so disturbing. He seemed pissed that Jacob had desecrated his mark of Wrath with the red welts rising on his skin, distorting it's prominence. John went on to speak of Rook’s sin and his atonement. How Joseph would have him walk by his side in the end as they traversed through Eden’s Gate together. Rook covered his ears after the first hour, turning his back to John. 

 

He was granted some quiet until the bitter notes of bliss pulled at his senses and slender fingers danced across his skin. He shivered, hunkering down into the cushion of his bed.  _ If you don't acknowledge them, they're not really there. They're not real.  _ He repeated this mantra over and over until he was reduced to exhaustion. Finally submitting to sleep in the early hours before dawn. He had the cushion tucked up close to his chest, pushed between his thighs as he slept on his side. His hips ached and knees throbbed, swollen from their abuse on the hard floor. Skin scuffed and dirtied from wear and tear.

 

Their routine cycled through the usual. Rook was drawn from his sleep by Jacob’s entry, the door clicking shut loudly as he was brought water. A few drinks with Jacob's fingers curled in his hair as he knelt in the threshold. His leash was brought over to clip to his collar and he was walked through the empty halls of the compound towards the showers. Steam lingered within, noting they had recently been used. The floors still slick with suds and soap. He was allowed a little longer this time around to clean up, washing his hair thoroughly and scrubbing his knees and skin clean with a wash rag provided, mindful of the healing scars on his damaged leg. 

 

Afterwards, he wrapped up in an itchy worn towel and was paraded through the halls once more. The sounds of people outside told him the compound must have been more lively in the yard. The distant rumble of trucks and the barking of dogs mingling with the bone chilling howls of caged wolves. The sound faded as they returned to the office, surprisingly empty of the previous pests that had taunted him all night.

 

The chair was pushed to the center of the room, letting Rook know they were continuing Jacob's version of training. Rook was manhandled across Jacob’s lap, the leash pulled tight to keep his head down in a way that wouldn't be troublesome. His hand ghosted down Rook’s spine, trailing fingers across the risen edges of bone until it reached the base. Calloused fingertips outlined the dips of flesh over his hips, feeling the sharper corners and outlines. All hard edges with soft mediums, sending shivers through Rook’s body. Goosebumps raced across his skin as the prickly beard returned to his neck. Hot breath against the cooler droplets resting on his skin. His face heated up, biting his lip as he hoped the soldier wouldn't notice. 

 

With the flick of Jacob’s wrist, the tied back of Rook’s towel came undone, leaving the rough itchy fabric as the only medium between Rook’s front and Jacob’s clothed thighs. A tongue rolled out, rough and claiming as it lapped over the earlier bite mark. Teeth teasing the fading bruises, sucking the vulnerable patch of skin in between sharp incisors, putting pressure on the flesh, testing the waters of Rook’s response. It irked the eldest Seed, how Rook didn't speak a word. The others assumed this meant they hadn't reached a level of approval that would urge the deputy to speak or that he was just playing hard to get. Other times they took it as him listening to their words but still somehow denying himself and that his silence was a plea for help. Jacob knew better than that, but it didn't stop some part of him from wanting to make him break, to draw what little sounds he could from the man, even if they were just whimpers and whines. Though, a nice scream or two wouldn't be overlooked. 

 

Jacob’s fingers moved down to brush over the red and swollen portions of Rook’s rear, stroking his thumb across the risen welts and feeling the lines where his belt met his skin. Rook tensed at the touch, feeling the sneaking tendrils of pain intermingling and drawing out a twisted form of pleasure. That part of Rook that he’s tried to quell and hide. It was hopeless, Jacob had already witnessed that darker part of Rook. The part that craves this, that thrives on it. Pain and pleasure were one and the same, a vicious habit that Rook had avoided after his realization in his youth. It was a brutal realization that left him uneasy. Back then he was ashamed and guilt ridden but now, he was basking in his sin as Jacob obliged that demented part of Rook’s psyche. The prey that craves to be bitten, that teases the wolf just for a kiss of teeth on his flesh. A pull of blood from his skin and claws raking down his back.  Jacob’s hand relinquished it’s hold on his sore rear, reaching around front to press two fingers to his lips. Rook parted them with little coaxing, sliding the digits across his tongue and sinking them in, teasing around the wet appendage as Rook suckled and mingled his tongue around them. Tasting salt and blood nestled in among lighter notes of smoke and that intoxicating earthy scent. 

 

Once they were nice and wet, he withdrew them, generously coated in saliva as they lowered to that dip of his spine before his tailbone, trailing down the cleft until it reached the tight ring of muscle. They slowly circled the ring, brushing against the reddened portions, causing Rook to draw in a sharp gasp, his hips jerking, grinding his half hard shaft into the rough material overlapping Jacob’s thigh. He bit his lip harder, head drawing back as the fingers circled slowly before attempting small prods until the muscle relaxed and opened up. The first digit was a welcome delight, breaching with ease as Jacob worked shallow thrusts to smoothe over the drag. The second was uncomfortable as the tightness pressed them together. Jacob worked against the drag, sinking them deeper until they reached the third knuckle, curling the fingertips as he searched for the little bundle of nerves. Rook gasped, head springing up as his hips thrusted into Jacob’s lap. His lips pulled back into a low growl of satisfaction, stroking that little bundle as Rook loosened up around his fingers, sucking him in greedily. “You like that, don’t you pup? You like being played with back here?”

 

Jacob spread his fingers, drawing light pinpricks of pain as his entrance stretched before the digits pressed back together and resumed their steady thrusting pace. His hips rocked to meet them, rolling forward in eager little thrusts, his shaft catching friction against the rough material of the towel. He gritted his teeth, feeling the pressure building up and the rough catch of fabric on the head of his member. He bared through it. Chasing the pleasure that dug deeper inside him with every thrust of Jacob’s hand. He was resting on the very edge when the fingers stopped, withdrawing with a slick sound and leaving his entrance feeling uncomfortably empty. Jacob rubbed his hand over Rook’s ass, groping each cheek and driving that sting right through him. His lips parted in another sharp intake of air, a hiss edging off his tongue. “You want to come?” That voice growled in his ear, something low and predatory. Rook couldn’t get enough slack in the leash to angle his head and meet those eyes. He could feel them on his back, primal and hungry, burning with a sin all their own. A lust for flesh. An all consuming hunger, barely concealed under the cool facade of the soldier.

 

“Ask for it.” Jacob pressed his mouth to the nape of Rook’s neck, lips parting to pull small patches of flesh into his mouth, suckling until they were black with bruises before moving on, working his way around his upper back and shoulders. His beard tickling the deputy’s skin as he trailed slow and concise patterns. Hot tongue against cooler flesh, warm breath through his nostrils, dancing down his back. “Prove to me that you want it bad enough. Be a good dog and speak.” 

 

Rook felt that bitter stabbing of shame light a fire in his chest, twisting up his insides and reminding him that this was wrong. That he shouldn’t be enjoying this. That this was the touch of the enemy, the man that hurt his friends. The man still keeping Pratt holed up somewhere in this godforsaken compound. Yet, he couldn’t deny that he wanted this, so fucking badly. He missed human companionship, he missed intimacy and pleasure that wasn’t just from his own hands. He was so busy saving everyone, protecting everyone and getting himself hurt and shot up all the damn time, that for once, he wanted to be greedy. He wanted to be shameful and sinful without the burdens of his responsibilities crushing him. Sure, the lines were damn blurry between what was alright and what wasn’t. As far as Rook knew, this would be the very last time he could experience something good in his life. Tomorrow is never guaranteed and he accepted that. 

 

With another hard bite to his neck, teeth scraping over his skin and dragging red lines down, soft whines rose in Rook’s throat. They were high pitched and threaded with tendrils of desperation weaving in and out. He whined and whimpered like the dog he was, his hips rolling, grinding down into Jacob’s thighs as he urged for more attention. His hips swayed in slow circles like a dog wagging its tail. He did this until he was greeted with a hard swat to his rear, drawing a startled yelp past his lips followed by the hard bite of Jacob’s teeth sinking into his shoulder. Those fingers found their way back inside him and probed him until he was brought back up to the very edge. 

 

He continued to whimper and whine, hips rutting against Jacob’s thighs as he panted like a dog in heat. The man growled his approval, nibbling along the shell of his ear, biting the edge and pulling, drawing small ticks of blood across Rook’s body but he didn’t care. Every pinch, bite and swat was another wave of pleasure rushing through him until his hips stuttered and shaft pooled it’s release into the scratchy material of the towel. The heat spreading across the fabric, enough so that Jacob even felt it atop his thighs. The fingers played inside him until he was milked for everything he had, hips jolting at the over stimulation as fingertips ground against that bundle until it was swollen. Muscles spasmed and twitched around the fingers, caught between the conflicting signals of sucking them in and pushing them back out. 

 

Jacob withdrew the slick digits from Rook’s twitching entrance, cleaning his fingers off on the edges of the towel. He trailed his now clean hand up along Rook’s back in slow careful strokes, praising him for his obedience. He was eased off of Jacob’s lap as the filthy towel was wrapped up into a wad and sat to the side. Jacob pulled the leash so Rook was nestled between his legs, his hard length prominent beneath his fatigues. An easy slide of the belt and a few slipped buttons later and Rook’s dazed expression was drawn to the heated flesh drawn out before him. His head was still dizzy, swimming with the waves of euphoria, leaving him far more pliant and vulnerable to Jacob’s whims. A hand in his hair was the only guidance needed for him to part his lips and accept the flesh into his mouth. This time there was no threat of biting or hard warnings, Rook’s tongue worked as skillfully as a second time around would allow. The faint scent of generic soap was present on Jacob’s skin, mingling with his more preferred scents of wood smoke and earthy soil. As if the man himself was birthed from the Montana forests. He lacked the distinct smell of the rainwater that Rook had taken such a liking to but this was a close second.

 

Blunt fingers scraped across his scalp, dragging dull edges through his hair as Jacob urged him to take a little deeper. His head tipped back, thighs spread further apart as he reveled in the tight suction of the deputy’s mouth. Rook hollowed his cheeks, eyes fluttered shut as he bobbed his head in a steady pace, the rhythm governed by the hand in his hair, gripping the strands tightly. As Jacob neared the edge of completion, he increased the pace, pushing his hips a little deeper, going a little rougher. Rook struggled to keep up, breathing faster through his nostrils as Jacob breached his throat. He attempted to swallow without choking, tightening around the head of Jacob’s shaft. The man groaned, his hips stuttered as the heat of his release pooled down Rook’s throat. The deputy started to choke, feeling it going down the wrong tube but his efforts to regain his control and composure were cut short by a firm hand that worked Rook’s mouth for a little more before he was finally free. Rook folded over, coughing hard between Jacob’s thighs, hand over his throat and another bracing his body to keep upright as he worked in large gulps of air to force the offending fluid out. The soft clink of the soldier’s belt signaled he had busied himself with cleaning up, leaving Rook by the now empty chair as he tended to his things. 

 

The sound of footsteps moved all around the room until Rook had secured enough of his composure to sit upright, clearing his raw throat in pitiful attempts. His state was far more sober than before. The lazy daze that clouded his mind had vanished, spurring a more acute awareness of the room as Jacob worked over by the desk. He didn’t see where the towel had disappeared to but it was nowhere in sight. The chair had been moved back to the desk where Jacob occupied himself with paperwork. In the newly formed silence, the man reached his free hand out by his side and snapped his fingers directing Rook to where he wanted him. Obediently, he crawled over to sit beside the desk where he was met with a curt pat on the head and blue eyes fixed firmly on the paperwork in front of him. 

 

The day continued as usual. Around noon, he got his food rations for the day along with another drink of water. He remained by Jacob’s side as he did paperwork. When he was away, Rook returned to his cage, not out of necessity but simply out of habit. He wasn’t alone though. The ghostly specters returned to reminisce his sins and his new found shame. To remind him that he was betraying his friends and giving to lust, into temptation. How easily he let it rule over him. He felt the sick rolling in his stomach as John reminded him of things better left forgotten. The man was like a jilted lover, he couldn’t let things go or just let it die. Even in his death, he was bringing up old promises as if Rook had somehow pledged himself to the youngest Seed first. It was simply that Rook started out in his region and John made himself a bigger thorn in his side. Luckily, Faith kept her two cents out of this lecture, becoming a passive observer, all sweet smiles and soft melodies hummed on the air. The bitter stench of bliss swirling around Rook’s head until he was forced to bury it beneath the cushion for some semblance of peace from the two. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt so motivated this morning that I decided to bust out a second chapter for the night. So enjoy! This one is smutty. Also I really hope this makes sense because I sort of wrote this in an aggressive frenzy. I was really in the mood for this one and everything just spilled right out into the open.

His routine was abruptly disrupted by the next morning. Jacob had entered in a rush, dragging Rook from his bed and rushing him out the door, one hand gripping his bicep tightly as he was forced to his feet and half dragged stumbling over his own feet, down the halls. He didn’t see where they were going as his bare feet slapped at the floor. Sweat trickled down his skin from the stifling heat of the day already flooding the stuffy halls with an unbearable humidity. The windows and doors were all opened, trying to coax a breeze through the building. They took one turn after another until Rook was brought into a far too familiar room with empty chairs fixed in place. The door was left open, the sounds of other people screaming and cursing their captivity down the hall flooded his senses. He sobered quickly, grasping the arms of the chair in a rush of anxiety as the screen flickered on, rolling the same old tape of wolves snarling over the carcasses of prey. Teeth bared, eyes fixed firmly on him. Jacob’s voice filtered through his thoughts, repeating the same old mantra of culling the herd, but this time it came from a tape recording, carefully paced and measured to match the video for additional affect.

 

Jacob lingered just out of sight as the lecture faded and the music replaced the sound of his voice. The world was a rose tinted blur, twisting around him and distorting with the screams of other people. Of other prey within the herd. It fell away to darkness until it was just him in a red splattered haze, gun in hand and other survivors mindlessly killing to be the last one standing. He fought on, rounding one corner after another with practiced ease but he struggled with the time. His legs were heavy, sluggish with every step. Pain jolted up his damaged limb, knees buckling as he forced himself onward. He didn’t know what spurred this on. If Jacob had gotten sick of him, deemed him too weak and pliant for his taste or if he thought Rook was ready, all the same, Rook was doing a damn poor job.

 

He lost his balance hoisting himself up on a ledge. A bullet cut too close, grazing his shoulder. He hissed, tumbling down onto his back. The silhouette of an attacker blotted out his vision and he put them down with a bullet to the heart. Their body crumpled atop his, pinning him to the floor. He dragged himself out from under it, scrambled back to his feet and swapped their guns. He was missing clothes, with nowhere to tuck his handgun, he dropped it for the rifle.

 

He heard Jacob’s voice in the background, echoing through his head. It sounded uninterested, almost disappointed as it reminded him to watch his time. To keep culling the herd. He picked up as he moved further in. Cutting corners, his reflexes making up for the failure of his footwork. He pushed on, shots becoming more precise but his body was too weak to keep up like before. Too shocked by everything going on. His heart rushing in his ears, blood coating his tongue as he gritted his teeth. Reaching the end, it felt like it had taken eternity. The final bullet reached the heart of the clothing clad mannequin. The trail of bodies left littered behind him as Jacob called time.

 

Rook dropped to his knees with an exhale of relief, gun gripped tightly to his chest with only a few rounds left in the clip. Darkness faded in and out of his vision as he was freed of the song’s spell. A handful of Peggies started dragging away the bodies of the dead, many of them were Whitetail Militia, some were innocent rebels brought in from John or Faith’s regions. Some were Jacob’s own men that failed to keep their status among the strong. Defectors or the weak minded who no longer lingered underneath the Seed’s spell. Those unworthy of Eden.

 

As two of the men approached Rook’s crumpled body, covered in blood and sweat, limp against the floor, their hands barely touched him before the explosive bursts of bullets rang out in the room. Two more bodies crumpled beside him, partially folded across his hip or leg, blood seeping out across his skin. Jacob’s voice rang in his ears as wrath burned like a fire in his heart, consuming him with the bloodshed. He may not be able to walk another step but he sure as hell doesn’t need to when a bullet will do it for him. He crawled out from under the mound, forcing himself to his feet as he stared down a set of predatory blue eyes. Lips drawn back into a snarl, daring him to pull the trigger. The gun was raised, held in a firm grasp, sure handed and guided by years of experience and training. By months of killing, leading up to this moment.

 

“Fine. You’ve proven you’re not weak. Still burning with the fire to fight. You’ve clawed your way to the top, pup.” Jacob opened his arms, a devilish smile on his lips that felt far too much like salvation. Rook’s fingers itched, he reaffirmed his grip on the gun, refusing to waver. “Come here pup. Come to your Master.” Rook hesitated, his eyes glancing between Jacob and the gun. It was a simple enough choice. An easy enough path that could end this all right here, right now. He would be done with Jacob, done with this ridiculous rat race. All that would be left is Joseph and Hope County would be safe again. Free.

 

Instead, the gun lowers. Jacob slowly closes the gap between them. By the time his hands meet Rook’s shoulders, they’re trembling. He can barely afford to stand on his own a moment longer and he melts into the strong embrace. Fingers slide down his arm, coaxing his grip loose until he relinquishes his weapon to the man. He tosses it amidst the piles of bodies and folds Rook into his hold. Rook lets him, inhaling the comforting scents of of the forest, of Jacob with every deep shaky breath. He’s so tired, his legs are numb and he’s wrapped in a tight choke hold of pain that refuses to burn away. The heat in his chest remains, the anger and the shame. The shreds of guilt splitting up into a million little shards and impaling his insides with, driving deeper to punish him for his failure. For being weak to the call of the wolf and giving in to the teeth at his throat.

 

He had a hard time deciding whether this is preferable or not. Even as Jacob wrapped an arm around his bare shoulder and hooked the other under the back of Rook’s legs, pulling his weight up against his chest as if he weighed nothing. He probably didn’t weigh much anymore. He was carried away with his head resting against Jacob’s sternum, head tucked under his chin as the eldest Seed barked orders to a few Peggies down the hall to clean up the mess. Rook flinched at the loud voice in his ears, soothed by soft hushes of apology from the man before they made their way down the hall and up a set of stairs to the next floor.

 

As far as Rook knew, this wasn’t the path they normally take back to the office. It felt too high up and he didn’t remember any stairs on the way to the room. He probably would have fallen down every step if he had gone that route, he was sure of it. The upper floor was quieter than the rest, it was cleaner too and showed less occupancy. The doors they passed by opened up to mostly empty rooms, at most they had a single cot within and a candle sitting on a small side table to offer a light. The book of Joseph sitting on the table in some of them. At the very end of the hallway was the room of their destination. Jacob unlocked it, pushing it open to expose an equally as spartan room as the rest. A single real bed in the corner, small, barely big enough for one body. Jacob’s large frame would easily fill the majority of the space. There was a bedside table with a candle on it to provide light in the darkness. The bulbs in the ceiling had been stripped in the upper floors, making the sleeping spaces feel more humble, a place to seclude oneself from the outside world, to kneel before their Father and pray in the silence before they crawled into their beds. Though Rook couldn’t see Jacob as the humble follower, dropping to his knees each night with his hands folded in prayer before bed.

 

There was a small stack of books on an adjacent table and a service kit for his firearms neatly laid out beside that. The faint scent of oil and polish lingered in the room, along with the more prominent earthy aromas and smokiness that enticed Rook. He could smell it even better when he was tossed onto the bed like a rag doll, face smashing into Jacob’s pillow, overwhelmed with the scent with every breath. A growl rumbled out of Jacob's chest as he shucked his jacket off, letting it drop to the dusty tile floor. Shoulders were drawn back, muscles coiling and rippling beneath the tight fabric of his shirt. All predatory compared to the spindly appearance of the little rabbit beneath him. He climbed over Rook, hands gripping his hips as he readjusted his pet, turning him over and pressing down into him. The heat of his chest bearing down against the curve of Rook’s back. One part of the deputy’s mind screamed that it was too damn hot to be this close, the humidity clung to their bodies and he felt boneless after running what felt like a marathon.

 

Blunt nails dug into his hips, grinding a hard length through the fabric of his worn jeans. The rough material pressing down on Rook's skin as fingers scraped and scratched along his rib cage, tracing the outlines of his body, following the curves of his figure before grasping hard, bruising strength in his touch. Rook felt the tickle of Jacob’s stubble at the back of his neck, the hot mouth sucking bruises into his flesh, marking over old and leaving new in their wake, trailing a path of ownership around the thick leather of his collar.

 

Rook tried to support himself, elbows tucked underneath, posting his body against Jacob’s weight. One hand roamed down the deputy’s side to his hips while the other reached up along his chest, dancing across the Wrath engraved into his skin until the strong fingers caressed his throat. A rough calloused thumb pressed over his adam’s apple, simulating the choked sensation from before then lowering down. The fingers curled around his throat, squeezing in warning as the clink of his belt sounded. Fingers rose up and pressed into Rook’s mouth, pushing through his parted lips and curling around his tongue. They pushed in deeper, urging him to open wider which Rook responded with the pressure of his blunt teeth, pinning the digits between them in warning. This earned him a hard nip to the back of his neck that arched pleasure down his spine. He gasped, mouth obeying as it parted, savoring the salty tang and metallic notes on the other.

 

When the fingers withdrew, Rook whined at the loss, drawing a deep chuckle from Jacob’s throat. It was dangerously close to his ear as the man grazed his teeth over the edge in a playful gesture. “So eager, pup. Don’t worry. You’ll get your reward.” The damp digits pressed between their bodies, allowing a brief reprieve from the incessant heat that pinned him to the bed. He felt the slick pads probing at his entrance, rubbing carefully until he was open, still loosely stretched from the night before. They easily slipped in, only marginally tight from the previous night but it wasn’t much for Jacob to spread his fingers and get him nice and open for him, thrusting in and out in shallow motions until the drag ebbs away. He sunk them down to the last knuckle, probing around until he found the sensitive bundle of nerves and curled the pads of his fingers into it. Rook jolted, hips grinding back into the hand as his head pressed down into the pillow. Fingers clutching at the bedding, clawing for purchase. Jacob nudged his thighs further apart with his knees and lined his hips up as he slipped a third finger inside his pet. He spread the fingers inside him, twisting and curling them until they had him stretched open, gaping and heated, the ring of muscle twitching pitifully, eager to be filled as they withdrew. He whined into the pillow, hearing another chuckle from the man at his back.

 

The weight of Jacob’s body pulled away as he lined his shaft up, stroking the heat of his length, giving his palms a bit of spit to add a fraction more of lubrication. It wasn’t much at the moment but they had to make do. The tip of his member prodded at Rook’s entrance before strong hands gripped his hips painfully tight. The weight of his body met Rook’s back once more as Jacob pushed in, inch by dreadful inch. The sheer girth of the soldier spread him wider then he anticipated. Rook’s head tipped back, spine arching as he tried to ease the process but it was futile. Jacob had him firmly pinned beneath the broad chest of muscle. Arms wrapped around his hips as he pulled him back, sinking right to the hilt. Rook could feel his stomach muscles swelling and tightening, the heavy heated breath smothered against the back of his neck. Teeth dragging across his bare skin, leaving red scrapes over what little unmarked flesh there was.

 

Rook balled his fists into the blankets, panting as his features scrunched up, trying to accommodate the new intrusion. His thighs spread further apart, leaning forward into the bed for some relief but it was nil. He gasped, squirming beneath Jacob’s weight as the man posted his body on either side of the deputy, caging him in. Trapped like the prey he was with a low hungry growl rumbling into his ear. The hairs on his body stood on end as shivers unraveled him. His shaft twitched in arousal, leaking precum from the slit and drooling over the bedding beneath them. The blanket offered a scant amount of friction for him to rub against, soothing the ache inside him and the uncomfortably full feeling that weighed so heavily within. Fingers brushed through his hair, lips parted to give fleeting kisses across his skin, dancing along his jaw until his head was tipped back at a painfully awkward angle.

 

His mouth was unguarded, opened and inviting for the predator to steal a taste. Tongues mingling together, invading a place that should have been private. There was nothing left in Rook that Jacob hadn’t touched. He layered his presence, his ownership over every inch of Rook, even removing the evidence of Faith and John’s existence, what little of their presence on this earth that was left that Rook himself hadn’t eradicated by his own two hands. He infested every part of him, mind, body and soul. Rook couldn’t deny the presence, the pull that Jacob had over him. It was more than mind games and domination. It was more than just his pretty words and the spell of that accursed song. It was something about Rook that had been there all along, begging for this, craving this sort of interaction. This dominance, this ownership. Being claimed in every way possible, reminded of that claim over and over again until he was raw and vulnerable inside and still able to feel comfort and security in the arms of the person who caused it.

 

Jacob was patient despite Rook’s eagerness, taking his time with every slow roll of his hips, punctuating every dragging pull out with a sharp snap back inside that had the deputy jolting into the mattress. His face smashed into the pillow, stifling his sounds as the soldier rolled his hips, grinding the head against the bundle of nerves inside, relentless and cruel before drawing back slow once more. Every thrust in evicted the air out of the deputy’s lungs, leaving him gasping to replenish the supply before it was snatched away once more. His face flushed, eyes wide at the arches of pleasure driven right to his core. He clawed at the bedding as Jacob started to speed up, the pitiful broken whimpers urging him on to a heated pace, the slow roll was replaced by sharper thrusts, the slap of skin on skin sounding in the otherwise unbearable silence of the room. Broken only by the gasps of the deputy and the deep thunderous growls of the soldier.

 

Jacob leaned closer, placing more of his weight on Rook until he was completely pressed into the bed, the sweat soaked through Jacob’s shirt and clung with suffocating ease against his back. His mouth worked over Rook’s shoulder, peppering kisses as starved lips danced across his upper back, nipping and sucking in choice areas until he found an open patch of skin on his adjacent shoulder. A few strokes of his tongue later and Rook jerked with a sharp cry as teeth sunk into his flesh, blood bubbling up around the incisors. Small rivulets beading down his skin, mingling with sweat and the grime of the earlier hunt. His hips stuttered, the friction of the blanket catching on his shaft and striking a fire in his loins as he ground into the fabric. Jacob’s pace increased, harder and far more punishing, becoming a frenzy that drove them both over into a biting snarling haze, Rook baring his teeth down on the hem of the blanket, gritting teeth hard enough to taste copper on his tongue before Jacob pried his head away and smashed their lips together in a bruising heated battle. Tongues swiping and searching the other, tasting the metallic cocktail as Jacob snapped his hips in, driving home with a brutal roll of force, followed by another and another, until their heat spilled out. Rook’s staining the blanket beneath him and Jacob’s filling the empty space inside his pet, painting him with his scent. His final claim to make Rook all his.

 

Rook was boneless against the bed, body crumpled to a useless rag doll at the end of Jacob’s fingers, left at the whims of the mad man. Strong hands gripped the deputy’s hips as he pulled out, the wet slick of Jacob’s seed dribbling softly from his twitching gaping hole. The ring of muscle doing a pitiful job at tightening up after taking the girth of the eldest Seed. He was rolled over, the blanket discarded to the floor with the rest of the dirty clothes. Jacob’s shirt was peeled off but Rook didn’t get the privilege of seeing the bare chested man. His view was obscured by the pillow until Jacob laid down atop the sheets, the edges pulled just enough to cover their lower halves. His arm wrapped around Rook’s waist to pull him taut against his broad swest slicked chest.

 

His back to the apex predator, a feat that would normally gnaw away at Rook with paranoia but today, he was content, feeling the prickle of the beard nestled against the crook of his shoulder. Lips tracing over the fresh bite marks and bruises in slow careful swipes. His fingertips trailing circles across Rook’s chest and abdomen, teasing the silhouette of his figure, as if memorizing every line and divet. Every crook and curve, every winding muscle and trench between bone and flesh. His fingers lingered on the lightly raised scars and welts that he himself had delivered upon his flesh, lips pulling into a satisfied smile as he savored his own handiwork, calloused fingertips repeating their tracks across them, once, twice, three times then they’d move on after committing it to memory.

 

It was easy for Rook to drift off like this, a soft hum in the back of Jacob’s throat, rumbling quietly in his chest. The pink hues started to tint his vision, layering over the dim lighting of the room to scatter the rose petal coloring like a veil dropping over his eyes. He made a soft hum in his throat, repeating the melody that was burned into the back of his mind until it faded out and he submitted to the pulls of soothing sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I've been doing writing requests on my tumblr for anon asks and I was occupied with that. Here is the next chapter. Please leave a comment or a kudo to let me know what you think. Enjoy!

Rook sat boredly beside Jacob as the man worked, the only tendrils of relief came in the hand that would drop down absently to stroke through his hair. Sometimes fingers would miss and dance across his bandaged shoulders. The thick gauze patches layered over the multiple deep bite marks delivered by Jacob himself, his claim etched into his skin. Rook had groaned when they were tended to, still very tender and sore. Every flex of muscle and pull of his shoulders renewed that pain, burning an edge into his nerves that ticked closer to the end of his tolerance. Being sore during sex was fantastic but hurting afterwards was something left to be desired. Especially like this. Jacob had pounded him into the bed so hard he collapsed into submission and passed out for hours. Long enough for the man to carry him back to the office, wipe him clean with a hand rag and patch him up. If it wasn’t for the white bandages, they could almost pretend like nothing even happened. _ Who was Rook kidding? _ The evidence littered his entire body. For all he knew, one look at him and Joseph would know exactly who’s teeth and hands had trekked their presence all over his body. 

 

Rook huffed a sigh, feeling the fingers leave his hair as Jacob rummaged through more papers on his desk. There was an absence of touch that lasted for several minutes before the hand dropped back down absentmindedly. It waved in the empty space, demanding Rook meet his touch. The deputy’s lips curled into a mischievous smile that was all teeth, a spark of fire burning in his gaze as he nosed the arm, nuzzling along the scarred over patches of skin. Rook’s tongue lapped at the salt taste, catching the soft wisps of generic soap lingering on his body before he parted his lips. His teeth latched onto the mid section of Jacob’s forearm, sinking in hard and fast. The soldier’s response was delayed, tense and tight before he started to jerk. Well trained reflexes forcing him to hold still so as not to cause more damage. Cold blue eyes turned their gaze onto the deputy, pinning him in place with a look that was far from amused. The free hand curled its fingers into his hair and pried his head back and away from his arm, inspecting the new deep bite mark in his flesh. 

 

Jacob’s lips drew back into a snarl. “Why?” Was all he asked, icy and deep, a low rumble as shadows danced across his tired eyes. Rook showed no fear or hesitation as he offered a bloodied smile in return. His lips stained with the cherry hue as he licked them clean. One hand rose up to pat at his bandaged shoulder, giving Jacob a daring look, all defiance, daring him to act. It brought out a strangled laugh that grew to something deeper and more genuine. As if he was sincere in his amusement, further inspecting the bite mark as his tense frame relaxed. Fingers trailing over the rivulets of blood racing down his wrist and along the crook of his elbow. “I guess fair is fair.” A sideways glance back was all Rook was given as Jacob carefully pat the top of his head in quiet praise before pushing himself up to his feet to find something to staunch the blood flow.

 

 

 

 

Their routine continued as usual, or as close to it as it could. Rook was allowed more freedom, his cage door left open, his body unhindered by chains or leashes. Jacob would direct him wherever desired with the call of his name or the gesture of his fingers. Sometimes a snap would be necessary to get his attention first. He received his rations as usual, a bit of Jacob’s more personal training in the mornings and in the afternoons he was taken to one of the training rooms. His body would be pinned down into the chair, the restraints would remain just long enough for the song to take him under its spell and then he’d be freed. A new weapon placed before him each run. He was quickly becoming faster and stronger with every session. His leg hurt less, his knees protested little and his body moved with precision, like second nature. He was quickly becoming the predator that Jacob desired. His wrath growing with each passing day, becoming more blood thirsty, more violent. Yet he remained obedient to the man. His subtle praise at the end, the gentle touches as his name was called out.  _ His name.  _ It was the name that Jacob had given him. His precious loyal  _ pup. _

 

By the third or fourth day, Rook had faltered amidst his runs. His mind twisting shadows and warping the figures that crossed his path. His gun raised, hesitated as the bitter notes of bliss danced around his head. A bullet fired past him from a gun clutched in trembling hands. The holder was a frightened woman, her brunette hair matted with blood and eyes wide and wild. She was weak, had the marks of once being under John’s guidance, the scars on her arms were clear as day.  _ Pride. Gluttony. Lust. _ But her face, something about it was sickeningly close to Faith. Rook hesitated and she took the chance, tried to fire a second round but the gun jammed. She screamed at the top of her lungs and ran at him, swinging the gun at his head. Rook ducked, diving towards her to catch her midsection with his bandaged shoulder. He used his momentum to force her back into the wall, her fingers scraping across his back, nails digging in deep as she fought for freedom. Another one of the captives running the maze rounded the corner and found them fighting as Rook pinned her to the wall. 

 

A blade met his back, sinking deep with white hot pain. His voice broke free to the open, a scream so loud and foreign to his own ears. Rook grasped at the shoulder in front of him, clutching at blood soaked fabric. The pistol in his other hand pressed to the girl’s rib cage, unleashing two shots to her chest. Her eyes were wide, the light fading out like a candle flame in the wind. A fleeting flicker before nothing but smoke remained. She slumped between him and the wall. He twisted around as the blade remained buried in his back, every breath was painful. Every gulp of air was a struggle. The man at his back scrambled for the jammed gun the girl had dropped in the scuffle. He fought with it, trying to get it free, to hear something other then the hollow clicks of the trigger. Rook raised the handgun, no need to aim at this distance and squeezed the trigger. He watched the smoke rise from the end of the barrel in quiet wisps. Heard the empty shell casings tink against the concrete floor. Something inside him snapped. The burning rage that had been boiling up all this time had gone cold, frozen over into something icy and vicious. 

 

Rook was making his way to the end before the body even hit the ground. He disregarded the gurgling sounds welling up in the man’s throat, ignored the outreached hand that snagged at his legs as he passed. He emptied the clip by the time he reached that faceless mannequin. He threw the gun to the side and reached up for the knife, bending his body around just enough for slick fingers to find purchase and pry it out of its place with another hellish scream. His vision was bathed red as he drove that blade into the mannequin torso, withdrawing it only to bring it down again and again and again. Teeth bared, blood stained and drawn into a snarl. 

 

His screams were the only sound left in the building, silence ebbed between until he dropped to his knees. Fingers still clutching the knife tightly in hand when a familiar set of boots approached him. His eyes stared off distantly, gazing at the cracks in the floor. The blood strewn bodies and bullet casings. Strong hands pressed his shoulders carefully, moving him around until they could hook under his legs. His gaze lifted to meet those blue pools, like an oasis in the middle of a desert. He slumped against Jacob’s chest, a hand at his back already occupied with wadded cloth, trying to cease the blood flowing out of the injury. A soft voice soothed his anger, lulled him into contentment. Praised him for being good. For being loyal.  _ For being strong. _

 

Everything that followed was a blur. Rook was bandaged up and tended to by the veterinarian. Jacob’s hands were kinder then the so called vet, which was a sad reality. The man poked and prodded at his injuries, igniting that fire in Rook once more that led to Jacob holding his wrists down. To keep him from killing. His throat was raw, the taste of blood was heavy on his tongue, eager for a drink that didn’t come. Instead he got a drip fixed into his arm, to replenish what was lost. It was a small mercy when its taken into account that the vet cleaned his injuries with alcohol. He didn’t have much of a voice left to scream with. By the end, he had the bruises of Jacob’s hands encircling his wrists to keep him pinned down. Adrenaline was one hell of a ride, it turns out. 

 

He faded in and out, the murmur of voices back and forth flitted in and out of his thoughts. The feeling of hands on his body wasn’t foreign or unwelcome but they were cold and unfamiliar at times. Sometimes fingers would brush through his hair, scarred knuckles gently ghosting over his cheek. A mixture of blood and forest pine mingled back and forth on subtle breezes, accompanied by the soft hints of smoke that reassured Rook that he was safe. It was a harsh irony that he had become well aware of in the last few days. What his mind considered safe and comforting. What once brought fear to his heart now consoled him when he was in pain, what calmed him when he was on the verge of losing everything. What reassured him when he had given his all and still felt as if he was falling short. He wasn’t stupid. He knew Jacob had wormed his way inside his head and his heart, had broken down all of his walls. He knew from his training at the academy, what Stockholm Syndrome looked and sounded like in kidnapping or abduction cases. They had entire lectures and segments on it. He couldn’t deny that that is where he was at now. And he honestly couldn’t care less. He didn’t see a way out of this. Didn’t care to anymore. 

 

When he finally started to wake up, he was back inside his cage lying on the comfort of his dog bed with a blanket drawn up to his waist. His back was covered in bandages, thick gauze padding protecting the open wounds he’s collected over time. His body was a road map of Jacob’s presence at this point. Of his trials and his demands. Evidence of Rook’s loyalty written in pain. Etched into flesh to prove he will bleed for the man in every way possible. 

 

The room was dark, the faint orange light of the desk lamp was the only illumination and the rest of the compound seemed quiet. No thundering of boots, no muffled bursts of gunshots or distant shouting of peggies in training. Even the howl of the wolves was silent for once. He shifted in place, testing his own body for any other injuries and bracing for the pain to follow. It was mild compared to the wolverine attack and was only slightly worse than the bite marks from Jacob. Breathing still hurt when it went too deep, it would become sharp and stabbing but otherwise, he was alright. He inspected the room, finding the door to his cage was open. At the threshold was a tray with his meal waiting on it. A sandwich wrapped in plastic, an apple and what Rook could only assume was supposed to be a cookie but then it also sort of looked like a brownie. He thought it was supposed to be for his low blood sugar after his injury but with how Hope County is with  _ ‘oregano _ ’ he decided he’d take his chances. The canteen rested beside it, half full of fresh water, his usual ration amount for a day. 

 

He ate his meal quietly, sitting up with the blanket wrapped carefully around his shoulders. The canteen resting in his lap. He saved his apple for later, his appetite wasn’t too dire at the moment after what he had gone through. His throat was raw and itched each time he swallowed solid food, making him immensely grateful for the water to wash it down with. He would wait for Jacob to return, as was usual for him but as the hours passed by, the silence continued to linger. As morning came and stretched into midday, the heat followed with it, unbearably hot and muggy. When the quiet was becoming maddening, the voices returned. Well, not just the voices, with it came that bitter stench of bliss and the visage of white, neatly kept within the confines of the adjacent cage. The other form stood at a distance, sitting pretty in Jacob’s chair, leg crossed at the knee, propped up like a right gentleman. Blue eyes burrowing into him with an expression that was smug and knowing. John’s gaze flickered from the Wrath tattooed across his chest then rose back up to Rook’s eyes as if saying  _ ‘I told you so.’ _


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter and by the way, we are about half way through this story. Maybe a little more then. Thank you all for your support and comments so far. It's kept me motivated and eager to hash out another chapter and sometimes two or three in the same day. Thank you so much. 
> 
> Please remember to comment and kudos down below. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Rook was sick of their presence by the second day. Their words festering in his mind like maggots in rotting flesh. The endless silence of the compound was no better. Jacob's absence was an unnerving addition to Rook’s already threadbare nerves. It wasn't uncommon for the soldier to be gone for few days. He often had work elsewhere in the region to tend to or was pulled away for abrupt meetings called in by Joseph. This wasn't new. But the silence, the sheer absence of life outside those office walls, that was new and sparked a terrifying jolt throughout the deputy’s body.

 

Faith and John's ghostly visions weren't of any help either. Teasing and taunting. “ **Looks like you've been left behind. Jacob doesn't keep the weak at his side. They're of little use to him,deputy. You of all people should know this.”** John's voice rolled with ease, all the preppy charm that's displayed on those over run television broadcasts that play on repeat all over the Holland Valley. Rook gritted his teeth, flashing a snarl of warning. John feigned surprise and fear, raising his hands in a mock form of surrender.  **“Don't blame me if your sin drove him away. It has consumed you, defiled you in the worst of ways.”** He gestured towards the myriad of scars and bandages that littered his body, all of which he lacked when Eden’s Gate started this whole mess.

 

Rook waited until late evening before he crawled out from his cage, the blanket wrapped around his form in a pitiful attempt at modesty in front of the ghostly onlookers. He'd waited long enough for a sign of life but none came so he chose to take matters into his own hands. It was better than sitting here waiting to starve or die of thirst. At least that's what he told himself. It had nothing to do with looking  _ weak _ or the coiled need that stirred in his stomach at the thought of Jacob. Nor the gut wrenching pain that followed considering he just up and walked away, just like that. As if Rook were just another of his little experiments that he'd grown bored with.

 

He shook those thoughts away with a grunt and searched the room, listening to Faith quietly hum in her little corner of flower petals and bliss. A vibrant moon drenched garden had sprung up around her feet, all sparkles and intoxication. Rook scrunched his nose up at it as he looked for something useful. The first time John opened his mouth to speak again, Rook threw a stapler at him. John's specter faded in a wisp of blue tinted smoke before popping back up in the other unoccupied cage. His long coat draped lazily over his lap as he sat with one knee propped up, an arm resting on it as his boot tapped in slow rhythm to the song Faith had started. 

 

Rook couldn't find anything useful in the desk. Most of the papers were gone that had been collected over the last month or so. The bottom drawer to the desk was locked making it impossible to access, leaving him with a last resort. The door to the office was locked as well, but the frame was warped, rotted in places by water damage and the humidity of a Montana summer.  A few good hits with his shoulder and the rusty hinges gave way, the door broke free easily enough. Rook was left breathless, the pain in his back ignited a fire licking at his lungs and spread through his chest. 

 

He gulped in large amounts of air before he started his search of the floors. He lucked out, finding a laundry room on the second floor, same as the office, snatching up a pair of old work trousers that hung on his waist. A bit of twine for a makeshift belt and he could at least run without them dropping around his ankles. There was no shirts available that weren't Peggy marked, he didn't want to risk being mistaken for the enemy and it was just hot enough for him to forgo the need. His second concern was a weapon. His luck had fallen flat here, forcing him to resort to dismantling a sink in one of the shared bathrooms to take a pipe. It left water flooding the floor and half drenching him in the process, a cool reprieve from the heat of the day that had quickly turned to discomfort as the damp fabric chafed his skin. Mainly his still healing wounds. 

 

The compound wasn't completely deserted, a very small handful of Peggies occupied it, walking their usual patrols in the courtyard. Jacob, his hunters and the dozen or so Judges were absent. All the cages were gone, possibly transported elsewhere. The two dozen of Jacob’s highly trained  _ Chosen _ were gone as well, leaving nothing but low-level amateurs behind. The sky was grey and darkening fast, the thick rolling clouds quickly blowing in carried the static warning of a storm on the horizon. The mountain weather was bipolar as usual though it wasn't all that unexpected with the recent rise in heat. 

 

Rook fixed the blanket, using it to give him some form of cover in the thick brush outlining the facility. He just needed to make it down the narrow two track towards a main road and he'd be home free. He could steal a truck or flag down one of the whitetails or...something. His mind had jumped ten steps ahead of him, distracting him from the looped patrol that intersected at his position. He hasn't realized until someone broke perimeter and called him out. The alarms sounded and footsteps raced towards him. There were hands on him before he could think. His reflexes were in overdrive as he cracked the pipe across the skull of his attacker. Blood splattered as bone gave under the force. 

 

There was a pained scream and more hands at his back, an arm hooked under his chin pressing down against his throat. Rook choked, swinging blindly as he beat the pipe against their sides and back, limited by his own injuries as to how far he could reach. Eventually their grip loosened enough for Rook to twist around and get a good swipe at them. He broke free, deciding not to linger a moment more, he dropped the blanket and made a run for the tree line, going the opposite direction of where he started heading. 

 

He just ran, the explosive bursts of gunshots were nearly drowned out by the approaching thunder. Screams and voices filtered through the forest in pursuit, the crackle of radios bathed in static from weather related interference, yet another small mercy as reinforcements were delayed. His bare feet pounded the dry earth, the rough terrain digging in and leaving its mark in his flesh as he pushed on, scaling fallen tree trunks and dropping down off of rocky outcroppings. He slid down steep slopes, the bite of the mountain side leaving elongated scrapes across his rib cage and shoulders.

 

Rook ran like he was thrown into that rat race of a maze again. He ran until the screams faded out and then kept going. He ran until the gun shots ceased and the rain fell. He ran until his feet bled and his knees could no longer keep him up, until his lungs struggled for every breath and his throat started to constrict and close. He ran until he was broken and delirious, until he hadn't realized when he stopped, lying face down in the underbrush. The rain pelting his back, the water was cold against his skin, small wisps of steam rising up, hair soaked and plastered to his forehead. His fingers dug into the mud, weakly scratching at the earth. A pitiful attempt to crawl. He hadn't even the strength left to lift his arm. He couldn't feel his body anymore, a catalyst of pain pushed beyond its limits. It felt as if it all was finally shutting down, that he had gone too far. Had pushed too hard.  _ Maybe you are weak?  _ The voice in the back of his head was familiar, concise and cold.  _ The strong don't give up. They keep going. _

 

“I can't.” His own voice was foreign to his ears, a dry croak proclaiming his end. He might as well be waving the little white flag but he wouldn't even have the strength to do that. His eyes closed, listening to the pitter patter of rain pelting the earth. The low rumble of thunder that quakes the very ground he laid upon. The soft wheeze of every breath he managed to gasp in. A part of him regretted leaving the compound. It wished to return to where it was safe and warm. It reminded him that Jacob would come back, that he always does. They had a routine, that Jacob never missed their routine. Their special little trainings that Rook fooled himself into believing meant something more. That he was more than just a tool for Jacob's amusement and occasional relief. Even now, his mind battled it out, fighting over what he  _ should  _ have done. What would have been  _ wiser. _ Even as darkness plucked at the fringes of his vision and sound vanished completely into a void. All he had left was the war of his thoughts to keep him company.

  
  
  
  


Rook laid there in the brush, drifting in and out of consciousness until the rain had stopped and night tipped over into day. Until the heat of the afternoon was more than he could take and yet his body felt so cold. He couldn’t move, everything was locked up, the feeling had ebbed out of his limbs and nothing was left but his thoughts, constantly racing and running amok. By the end of the first day, even John and Faith had left him, their incessant talking which had driven him mad on more then one occasion was now a dearly missed companion but he hadn’t the voice to call out for them. To beg for them to come back. To not leave him here, alone to die. By nightfall, Rook had convinced himself that this was well deserved. This would be his end, for his failures and his shortcomings. For leaving Staci in Jacob’s clutches, for failing to save Burke. For letting Jacob live all those times when he had the opportunity to end it all in his grasp. 

 

He dozed on and off, flickering between levels of consciousness and lucidity. He heard animals come and go, some would stop and inspect his body like any of the other fallen corpses, tongues would test his skin as if to steal a taste but would inevitably leave and wander on. A bear, a wolf, or maybe just another stray dog that’s lost its place in the world when Eden’s Gate arrived. Nothing would come and end his misery. The next day was sweltering, the shade of the trees was hardly a mercy as the sun burnt his back. His bandages were soaked through, the skin festering and raw with a deep burn all their own. It was a new sensation, one that Rook was acutely aware off after the numbness. He shivered, soft sounds leaving his throat, barely a croak as sickness set in.His eyes slipped shut, giving into the pulls of sleep, if only to secure absence in the end. 

 

He didn’t know how many hours had passed but by late evening, voices stirred in the nearby brush. Rook opened his eyes and gazed through the branches of the bush. Two figures traipsed through the narrow deer paths of the woods, guns held firm in gloved hands. Their signature camo and colors told him they belong to the whitetails. They were eli’s people. He opened his mouth to speak, to form some kind of sound, to alert them but all that came out was a raspy croak. Figures, the one time he actually needs his voice and he’s reduced to silence. His fingers curled into the damp soil as he tried again. His bare feet shifting, rustling the bushes around him in a pitiful attempt at being noticed. At first it seemed they were unaware, walking and chatting quietly amidst each other. He gave a hard choked sound, moved a little harder to make them sway and swat, the muscle in his leg pulled tight, cramping up at the motion forcing him to stop. The residual sway caught their attention, guns raised as they moved closer, expecting a wolverine or some other bliss maddened predator to come running out at them. 

 

The startled sounds from their throats and the myriad of cursing to follow, told Rook this wasn’t what they expected. His fingers scraped at the soil in a pitiful show that he was still alive, albeit barely. They grabbed at his shoulders to move him around, a muffled scream rose in his throat, descending into choked whimpers as the pair considered what to do with him. It wasn’t until they got a good look at his face, that one of the militia members recognized him and Rook, very hazily remembered the man as well. He was one of the last few Whitetails he rescued from a prisoner van. He had them tag along with him to the Hotel for another mission for Eli. He couldn’t remember the man’s name and honestly at the moment, Rook didn’t care. All that mattered was that they recognized him and they were already on their radios calling for help. They inspected his broken and battered form, mindful of where they applied pressure but it was futile. Every inch of his body had taken a severe beating over the last month or so of his absence. From what he heard, they all thought him dead. Rook half considered that to be better but forced himself to not give in. Help was present and he was finally saved from this hell hole. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to bust out the next chapter early since I'm going to be spending some extra time on a few FC5 writing requests my Anon's requested on tumblr. I'll post them on here as well when they're finished. 
> 
> Please leave a comment and a kudos below to let me know what you think. Enjoy!

A whole month. It took Rook an entire month to recover, at least physically. The scars Jacob left on his mind would never heal, but he was up and walking and eating and moving again. He was transported to the Wolf’s Den first where Eli and Wheaty helped nurse him back to health for a week until Nick and Sharky came and picked him up, giving him a ride back to Fall’s End where it was safer and much more quiet. He spends his days doing odd jobs around the town, helping Father Jerome as he built his strength back up, surrounded by good friends that helped him acclimate back into life. It didn’t stop the nightmares or keep Faith and John from popping up in moments of silence.

 

He jumped back and forth between sleeping at the Rye house and holding up with Grace at the Lamb of God church. They turned it into a makeshift boarding area for any wayward civilians in need of shelter and a bed for the night. It kept him busy. Peaches and Boomer were constant companions, reassuring him that everything was alright. Some days when the rain would come, he’d find himself leaning on the massive feline for a little assistance since his body didn’t quite yet want to work properly. Other days, Boomer was a quiet companion that nosed his way in bed with him, soothing his fears after vicious vivid nightmares and reassuring him that he was safe, in his own bed in a place he felt at home in. 

 

It didn’t stop that painful longing. It didn’t cease his need for a different kind of companionship or that instinctive desire to be at another’s mercy. To be controlled in everything he did. Jacob was like a crutch he could lean on. Since day one he’s been running around like a chicken with his head cut off, with no clue as to what to do. He  _ needed  _ that guiding hand, that controlling presence. The others were always coming and asking for help, for assistance and begging Rook for some sort of direction to point them in. To tell them how to pick themselves back up and keep going. With Jacob, he didn’t need to be in charge. He wasn’t required to assist or to lead. He didn’t have hundreds of people under his command or in his responsibility. It was just him and all he had to do was obey. To listen like a good dog and do what he was told. It was easy, pure and simple. He obeyed and he was rewarded, sometimes very generously in ways that he hadn’t anticipated, touched by strong hands like no one else has. He couldn’t get it out of his head. 

 

He couldn’t fathom just how deeply Jacob had affected him until he spent a few weeks alone, without the man that had ruled every waking minute of his life for the last month. He’d woken up on more then one occasion, not because of nightmares but because of vivid wet dreams and he honestly didn’t know which was worse. Jolting up terrified out of his mind, scrambling for breath, or sitting up in bed with his hands already desperately working away at his body for relief that could never truly be sated. To be driven mad by a touch that he craved more than life itself.  To the point it was suffocating and hopeless and reduced him to frantic tears and panicked frustration when nothing would soothe that burning heat or that painful ache deep inside him.

 

It had gotten so bad, that his friends had begun to notice, the change in his behavior. The heavy cloud he carried every day on his shoulders and the sullen look in his eyes. He never spoke about what Jacob had done to him. They had seen the extent of the damage that littered his body. They couldn’t see the damage below the surface, the layers of scars that Jacob had left on him, how deep his claws had sunk in. Tammy could only scratch at the surface with her paranoid rants she’d throw at Eli in the next room over, a little too loud for it to be private during his visits to the Wolf’s Den. His presence was a sore topic for her and he understood that enough to keep a respectable distance from her.

 

A few weeks into the second month, he’s slowly been getting back into the swing of causing trouble. Much of it’s been spent taking back the last few shreds of the Henbane back from Faith’s loyal priestesses still harassing the locals. He had just secured an oil refinery being used to hold their prisoners awaiting their conversion into the Bliss. It was easy enough, a job he accomplished with Peaches and Boomer alone. He just needed time to himself, especially after Nick and Grace walked in on him throwing things around an abandoned cabin and glaring down the wall like it had personally offended him. He never raised his voice before, hardly even used it but they had the unlucky fortune of entering just as he screamed at John and Faith to shut up. His voice broke and a part of him clammed up immediately. His companions looked concerned, kept a wary distance from him that was painfully obvious. When they returned to Fall’s End, the news must have spread because in the following days, everyone was watching him with an odd gaze, wary and concerned. Like they were waiting for him to trip up, to snap or say something wrong. To show his true colors like all the rest of Jacob’s faithful. To snap and go on a killing spree and rave about culling the herd. 

 

He didn’t need that right now. He needed his friends to help but there was little they could do. Nothing he could really say to reassure them and he sure as hell didn’t want to endure the conversation that would follow explaining what Jacob had really done to him. He didn’t need an intervention, he just needed people to stop treating him like a wounded wild animal. 

 

He was just starting to make his way back to his commandeered ATV when his radio cued up. The voice that filtered over pulled a familiar ache in his chest. His fingers fumbled to turn the speaker up as Jacob addressed him. “You’ve been a naughty boy Deputy. First you disobeyed orders and ran away, then you hid from me. I’m hurt, you know. I thought we had something.” The way his voice hung on that last word, a low rumble that stirred shivers through Rook’s body. His fingers tightened their grip on the radio as he swallowed thickly. “But I’m not going to hold that against you. It was my fault for leaving. I didn’t make my orders clear enough and I’m sorry.”

 

There was a long casual pause, as if Jacob was considering his next words carefully, trying to decide whether Rook was worthy of his offer. “There’s still a place for you Deputy. If you want it, I’ll be waiting but not forever.” The coordinates for the location rose up on his radio screen, a small blip of numbers. He dug into his bag quickly to pull up the map of the county and found right where it was. It was an hours drive to the cabin, remote and well hidden up in the mountains. A little haven in the middle of nowhere, thick in the forest and shielded from view of any roads. The driveway was long and winding, too narrow for trucks to get back in. Rook could barely get his ATV up the steep paths, forcing him to stop halfway up and trek the rest of the way on foot. There was a light on inside the cabin, no sign of anyone else around but a single silhouette moving around inside, slow casual motions like they were keeping busy. 

 

He whistled to Boomer and Peaches, gesture for the pair to stay outside as he approached the front door. He shifted his handgun on his hip, thumb running over the clip that held it in place, letting out a shaky breath. He was surprised to find the door unlocked and pushed it open, finding a back clad in desert camo facing him. Jacob whistled softly to himself as he fiddled around with a duffel bag sitting on the countertop. The kitchen was recently stocked, can goods sitting in the cupboards and dishes set out to dry. The fireplace crackled with the soft scent of wood smoke that Rook couldn’t help falling in love with. There was an well used and worn armchair sitting near it, a side table on one side with a lamp and a book resting on the smooth surface. On the other side was Rook’s dog bed, looking freshly cleaned and fluffier then he remembered. The room was warm, fending off the slight chill that had settled in the recent days, the storms came and went as summer tilted towards autumn. The nights harbored a nip that crawled across his skin and licked at his exposed neck whenever the breeze kicked up.

 

“Good boy.” Jacob cooed, his gaze still facing forward, occupied with the contents before him as he directed Rook. “Now, strip. Good dogs don’t wear clothing.” He reminded. Rook quietly nodded and looked around, finding the dining room table to be a suitable enough place to rest his weapons, pulling them from their holster and checking them over before setting them down. His knives, his handgun, his bag. Then he neatly removed each piece of clothing, his red flannel, his t-shirt, his boots kicked off to rest by the legs of the chairs then his worn pair of jeans, the belt still looped in it. Lastly was his boxers, sliding down with only a fraction of hesitation before shimmying out of them. They joined the pile, leaving Rook’s body bared to the whole world, with nothing but his collar clasped around his throat. 

 

When the Whitetails found him, they kept the mention of the collar to a minimum, deciding to write it off as a sick joke on Jacob’s part. Eli and Wheaty had attempted to cut it off but quickly realized it was made to be bite proof, specially made to collar his Judge’s and keep them in line with metal fibers woven between the layers of leather. On top of the fact it was too tight on Rook’s neck to safely cut it away and they’re need the key Jacob carried to get it off of him safely. Since then, Rook borrowed a red flannel with a high collar on it to wear, keeping it tucked out of view so the others wouldn’t see it. He never took his jacket off in the presence of others. Using the inability to cut the damn thing off as his excuse to keep wearing Jacob’s mark on him. It was another pitiful attempt at fooling himself, even as his fingers strayed to touch it, feeling over the skin warmed leather and the little sunburst engraving of the Eden’s Gate symbol. 

 

Even now, that symbol hung above his breast bone, reflecting the soft orange light of the fading rays of evening sun peeking through the canopy and beaming through the window. The cabin was lit by the warmth of the fireplace, the low flames swelling over the fresh logs in the hearth, offering a reprieve from the cold outside and wrapping itself around his body. Rook didn’t need to look to know when those eyes finally turned on him. Their hungry gaze devouring his figure in the failing daylight. The shadows dancing across their features, the only movement in the cabin for several heartbeats. Jacob’s lips tilted up with a smirk as he directed Rook towards the chair, taking the first few steps, boots scuffing across the worn wood floor boards. 

 

The deputy obeyed, falling easily into step. He leash was held in the soldier’s free hand, the clip already raising to meet his collar when they were in arms reach. The silence was suffocating as warm fingers tilted his chin up to expose his throat. Rook closed his eyes, savoring their touch, a shiver racing down his spine as soft lips pressed against the side of his neck, mouthing over his jugular. The prickle of Jacob’s beard was a quiet comfort as he suckled lightly on skin. “You’ve grown a bit pup.” Jacob purred against his flesh. Rook had regained some of his physique since Jacob had him, not quite back to normal but he didn’t look like the slightest gust would blow him away anymore. 

 

Strong fingers gripped the dip of his throat, shaping around the collar as they gave a firm squeeze of warning. Jacob drew back, blue eyes gazing back at Rook, a devilish smile pulling at the edges of his mouth, flashing teeth for the briefest moment as he spoke. “You’ve been bad and that deserves punishment. You should know better than to run from your Master, pup.” The snap of belt buckles made Rook flinch, eyes breaking contact as they darted to see the soldier’s free hand pull his belt free of his jeans. Jacob’s grip on his throat released, trailing down to curl fingers into the leash, pulling it taut as he backed them towards the chair. Jacob eased himself down, resting his legs comfortably enough so that Rook could balance himself across them. His hands braced the floor for support as the leash was pulled forward, ensuring his ass was up in the air where his Master could reach. Jacob’s fingers trailed down his back, brushing over the healed over scars, all the damage from running that rat race of a maze and the bite marks still present in his flesh. 

 

They trailed down lower, stopping at the dip of his hips as he adjusted the belt in his hand, reaffirming his grip as he brought the leather down across his rear. Rook gasped, breathing in sharply as eyes fluttered shut. Jacob spoke through the punishment, between each snap of leather across Rook’s ass, each jolt that rocked his body and made him grind into the swath of denim beneath his hips. Rook bit his bottom lip, producing soft needy whines as all his pent up desires unfolded right there before the man he was most vulnerable against. “I don’t blame you entirely for running away pet.” Jacob explained. “Animals grow restless and afraid without their masters around. It was only natural you would seek freedom in my absence.” Another swat followed, a hand paused to rub over the reddened flesh. Jacob made certain to keep the abuse even between his cheeks, enjoying the squirming of his pet, the way he’d jolt and rock his hips in a futile attempt for relief. He could feel Rook’s  _ ‘problem’ _ starting to form, rubbing against his knees like the filthy animal he was. Jacob had more than enough planned to fulfill that need, to reassert his dominance. They had all the time in the world. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait for the next chapter. I was working on other pieces int he meantime. Please leave a comment below and a kudos to let me know what you think. I appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you all for the support so far. Enjoy!

The fire crackled softly in the hearth as another cold night rolled in, casting a slight nip in the air that urged him to curl up more closely to the warm solid wall of muscle beside him. His head rested against the broad shoulders, arms drooped around the soldier’s neck as he inhaled the familiar intoxicating scent with each deep breath. It was an ironic form of contentment Rook had come to enjoy in the last few months. Being this close to the man that had personally seen to making his life a living hell in the collective span of two months but he couldn’t help the veil of security Jacob’s presence brought to his otherwise unstable and unpredictable world around them. He sought out safety in arms that could easily crush him into non-existence. Rook let himself fall into this lull without ever considering the repercussions. 

 

_ “It’s a lie.”  _ The voice curled around his ears, a soft whisper on the air from a melodious voice. His body went taut in the hold, his eyes opened, staring at the slowly dying firelight over the soldier’s shoulder.  _ “None of it is real.”  _ The words prickled down his spine, the warmth snuffed out by a sudden gust, leaving only the red embers glowing in the remains of charred wood ends like the red eyes of hellish fiends staring up from a dark abyss. He squirmed to get free from the hold, feeling it tighten around him more firmly, arms constricting his torso until bone creaked and groaned. 

 

His fingers curled into hard muscular shoulders pushing and clawing to get free until they caved and sunk into the once solid figure. The touch was wet and slimy almost, he dared a glance and found himself wrist deep into a decaying form. A scream broke from his chest as a flash of sharp teeth glinted in the shroud of darkness, the bitter bite of bliss rolling across his mind like a valley fog settling heavily in the low lying dips and embankments. Pain spread across his shoulder as he struggled harder to get away, kicking out until he was released, falling back to the floor with a hard thud. All the air was knocked clear out of his chest, each gasp and gulp was met with a suffocating veil wrapped over his face, preventing him from getting any oxygen at all.  _ “You’re fooling yourself, wading into a pool of deceit and pain.” _

 

He felt a vice grip secure over his biceps, pinning his arms painfully beneath him as he continued to fight and struggle. The faint shroud of a white blouse twinkling above him like an angelic silhouette giving way to an explosive world of sparkling lights and a hazy green fog swelling up over him. He gasped, giving a choked attempt to inhale once more, feeling a spongy sensation filling up his chest, clogging up his throat and compressing inside, a thick congestion that he couldn’t break free from, urged on by the frantic terror of suffocation which only proved t make the situation worse.

 

A distant voice faded in and out, the grip tightened as he was gathered up into an upright position. His eyes blinked blearily, attempting to focus as the world flipped and rolled around him in a dizzying haze until the light came back, the orange glow that had become so comforting to him resumed it’s security of his senses, bringing brief tendrils of reassurance with it’s return. He tilted his head, meeting a shocking gaze of electric blue eyes that pierced the coiling shadows and reflected the soft orange of the fire, features creased with concern as he gave another firm squeeze of Rook’s shoulders and shook him gently. “Breath...pup...Come o-...” The words drifted in and out of a static haze, mixing and mingling with the soft whispers of melodies that danced in his mind, working their way through the murky green fog in his thoughts as Faith’s visage stalked the backdrop of the cabin, prancing around on dainty bare feet with smug satisfaction.

 

Rook’s eyes were wide, staring past Jacob’s shoulder as the man struggled to get his pet under control. A sharp slap to the deputy’s cheek only worked briefly as he blinked, giving soft whimpers as he struggled between gasping panicked breathes. He didn’t know where it had come from, after their earlier play in the evening, Rook passed out with his arms wrapped around his shoulders after a long day of fighting for survival. A good fuck later and everything seemed alright until his pet started fighting in his hold, body tense and tight before he was reduced to what Jacob could only assume was a panic attack. The expression on his pet’s face was familiar to him, the same look he’d walked in on Rook giving the two empty cages beside him back at the compound. Back then he brushed it off but now he realized there was a problem that needed to be dealt with. First things first though. 

 

Nothing else seemed to be working so Jacob resorted to the basics, humming the soft tune as he held Rook in place, rocking his body in slow measured motions. He felt the tension in his body give way, his muscles relaxed, no longer fighting him for control and his frantic breathes started to fall under some semblance of normalcy. He continued the tune until Rook fell completely boneless against his chest once more. He gathered his pet up and laid him out onto his bed next to the fire. His body was coated in a cold sweat, drawing soft shivers across his skin as he pulled the blanket over his slumped figure and brushed fingers through the mess of disheveled locks before letting him get some proper sleep again, knowing the conditioning will help keep whatever inner demons are haunting him out of his mind for a little while. 

  
  
  
  


It was well into the next morning by the time Rook started to stir. The smell of cooking food had him pushing up to a seated position, one hand rubbing at weary eyes as he looked around to find Jacob in the kitchen. Worn old jeans and a red flannel never looked so good to the Deputy. A hand towel was tossed over one shoulder while Jacob tossed a hash mixture of potatoes and chopped pork in a skillet and scrambled up a couple eggs next to it. A percolator of coffee brewed the homely drink on the counter, a table already set for two as the man hummed a soft melody to himself. It wasn’t the usual tune that seemed inevitably stuck in his mind. It was something more comforting, something a little more country and familiar to Rook but he couldn’t quite put his finger on which song it was. He could pick up the tune as it went, but the lyrics remained just out of reach, only the distant memory of guitar strings being plucked in sync to barely whispered vocals.

 

“Morning pet.” Jacob greeted casually as Rook wrapped his shoulders in the blanket, making his way towards the kitchen. The deputy bowed his head towards the man in return greeting, a small smile tilting his lips up as Jacob nudges him towards the table. A boot kicked out his chair so he could be seated before Jacob dished out equal helpings between them. There was an unspoken agreement that the mornings after were allowed to be mundane and human. There was an odd sense that it was something they both desperately needed and desired to keep some form of sanity and resemblance of normal life. That no matter what happens during their private rendezvous, they would share a very bland morning which had become something Rook looked forward to. He watched as Jacob poured a cup of coffee for them both, setting Rook’s within reach as they started to eat. Rook never spoke and so their interactions were quiet as usual. Jacob didn’t seem to mind that either, in fact, he appeared to delight in the quiet company and was probably one of the reasons he kept Rook around, especially after having two chatterbox younger brothers stuck to him at the hip.

 

Breakfast was mostly uneventful as they worked through their meals. Rook finished his first, resting back against the chair as he focused all his attention on his coffee, watching the slender wisps rise up off the surface, dancing white phantoms across a swell of black. His mind jumped back to older memories, distant and fresh in his mind. His features paled, a difference that the soldier picked up on almost immediately. The tension that formed in Rook’s shoulders and the far away expression that shadowed his normally relaxed features. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Jacob inquired, the low rumble of his voice was scratchier sounding today, catching on his vowels. Rook’s response was delayed before his head slowly raised to meet inquisitive blue pools. He shrugged simply and took a sip of his drink. Jacob set his fork down against the plate, a little too loud in the quiet warmth of the morning, causing Rook to flinch at the grating scrape of metal on corelle. “Don’t shrug me off,  _ pet _ .” Jacob stressed the nickname with growing frustration. Rook sat his mug down, fingers curled around the warmth of the exterior. 

 

He chewed on his bottom lip, a habit he’s grown back to doing from time to time until the skin was raw but then again, that felt like the epitome of his life right now. Just raw, chewed up and constantly in the process of healing or being fixed. He huffed a sigh, feeling uncomfortable beneath Jacob’s expectant gaze. He parted his lips, tasting blood on his tongue as he started to speak. It took a few false starts, a hard swallow and Jacob’s patience growing thinner before a rough form of his voice met the open air. It was brittle and gravelly from lack of use, breaking every now and then as if he were suffering through a bad cold as he murmured. “It’s...John….and Faith-” His voice broke off as he cleared it, taking a few slow sips from the mug. 

 

Jacob raised a questioning brow, awaiting the deputy to elaborate. “What about them?”

 

Rook gave another shrug which caused a visible tensity to form in Jacob’s body, the man leaned closer, resting his arms against the table, plate nudged aside and meal forgotten as he gave a silent warning to his pet. Rook averted his gaze back down to the mug, taking a slow deep breath as he looked around the room, already expecting the phantoms to be present. They were never far from him, sometimes out of view but never far. He could always feel them, a static chill that clings to his skin no matter how hard he rubs and swipes at it. He found Faith standing before the living room window, swaying in idle motions, fingers curled into the skirt of her dress, swishing and swaying it with childish glee as she hummed playfully. John had taken up the spot in Jacob’s chair, legs crossed in a lazy attempt at proper posture, chin propped up in his palm as he watched the deputy. “ **Oh, now you want us?”** John jabbed at Rook, pulling a scowl across the deputy’s features. “ **What if I don’t want to?”** He blanched, rolling his eyes at Faith’s overly pleasant demeanor, scoffing at her gentle touch to his shoulder and pulling away. 

 

Rook frowned and shook his head, returning his gaze to an even more puzzled Jacob which pressed him back into a timid display of body language. Jacob’s eyes shifted from Rook’s meek response towards the area in the living room, his mind already piecing it together. It wasn’t the first time he’s met people who see phantoms as a result of trauma. Sometimes it’s brought on by guilt, other times it’s insanity and sometimes it’s the subconscious protecting itself from something far worse. He gave Rook a sympathetic smile but that didn’t let him off the hook. “You see them?” Rook nodded slowly. “Do they talk to you?” Another nod of affirmation. There was a long pause before Jacob added in. “Last night, was that because of them too?” Rook paused, thinking hard about the events of the night before, his brows furrowed in concentration before he raised his hand to show one single finger. 

 

“There was only one of them?” Rook nodded in affirmation. Jacob wondered quietly for a minute before asking. “Was it John?” A shake of the head. “Faith then.” It wasn’t a question but Rook nodded all the same. There was silence that followed, Rook shifted in his seat, listening to Faith and John bickering back and forth in the living room. He took a sip of his coffee as john made a lewd comment, nearly causing him to choke on his drink. He set the mug down a little too hard and coughed, hands clasped over his mouth as a snarky laugh bubbled up out of John’s throat. Rook gave the youngest Seed a disapproving scowl which drew a comment from Jacob. “I’m assuming that was John, right?” Rook’s attention was brought back to the soldier as he nodded hesitantly, watching as Jacob gave his beard a slow thoughtful stroke followed by a weary sigh. 

 

“How long has this been going on?” Rook met the question with silence. He really had to think about that one. He had been seeing Faith’s hallucinations all along even before she had died but he didn’t think that actually counted. He cupped a hand over his mouth as he crossed an arm and propped his chin up. Eyes going distant before he came up with an answer. He shifted the blanket around to expose his scarred up leg, sticking it out so Jacob could see the lingering damage from the run in with the wolverine. Jacob gave a knowing grunt of understanding before settling back into his seat. He didn’t really know how else to handle this situation. There were a lot of people he’s met with problems like that but none he’s know that have overcome it. Some supplement it with drugs or drink, drowning the phantoms out until they become a blur in the background of a fading reality until death. Rook appeared to be coping easily enough with it so it wasn’t much to worry about. He was just getting frustrated not knowing what was causing the strange behavior in his pet but this, this he could at least help curb if only a little. Play the part of Rook’s rock when he needs a little reminder on reality like the night before but that’s the best he could do. 


End file.
